


The Ironclad Pharmacist

by miraimisu



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Alchemy, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Military, Subtle Love (like very deep but very subtle), Subtle Pining, Superior/Subordinate, Where Moon is a shameles flirt and Gladion just has to put up with her antics and it's lovely, fullmetal alchemist brotherhood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraimisu/pseuds/miraimisu
Summary: FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST AUThe shenanigans of Colonel Moon and Lieutenant Gladion as she makes her way to the throne of the Führer and he wonders how much it will take for her to take her own ambitions a̶n̶d̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ seriously.





	1. Between Books and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> GOOD MORNING I FINALLY ARRIVED AND I have this new AU to present and there's a LOT TO DO SO /rubs hands  
> and I have a few things to mention before I begin because this is a bit messy:
> 
> \- This will be a compilation of a bunch of fanfics I have written for this AU.  
> \- This story will contain spoilers (duh) and I will mark which chapters include them.  
> \- Some chapters are NOT spoilery and are not canon.  
> \- Because FMAB has a way larger cast of characters than Pokémon does I have made plenty changes to the underlying plot. This plot will not be a big part of the story, mostly because I think it's safer to make this as less plot-oriented as possible. Even though there WILL be scenes that necessarily will reveal/explain plot parts of FMAB (thus might be a spoiler for the most part) there will be some others that will have changed and thus can be interpreted as not canon-compliant.  
> THAT BEING SAID LET'S GO also this first chapter is NOT canon but it serves as an intriduction!  
> 

Lieutenant Gladion is about to lose the last bit of his patience and the culprit doesn't even want to face him, nose stuck in a book too thick for her hands. His fingers drum against his desk as he stares at the back of the black leather.

His voice comes out dry. "Ma'am."

The girl in question slowly spins her leather chair to meet his impatient gaze. Her feet are pushed on the chair and she balances a pencil between her upper lip and nose, nonchalance at its finest. The book has been closed and strategically hidden under her bent knees.

Colonel Moon. The Flame Alchemist. 25 years old, behaving like a toddler of 8. The Angel of Ishval. His utterly ridiculous Colonel.

She is determined, strong, witty, intelligent and brave but also extremely easy to distract and horribly lazy. Even with her ambitions clear as day, he knows Moon would rather stay buried in flowers and herbology books instead of completing her duties.

A brilliant brain and military woman, aiming to be the _Führer_ but getting herself lost in her medicine and scientific books.

He sometimes wonders how she even got halfway to where she sits now, a grin cracking at her lips.

"What is it, Lieutenant? Finally learned how to crack a joke?"

He knows she is joking. He knows each of her tones and voices like the back of his own hand— that's what years of friendship and unwavering loyalty did to them.

Just like he knows she is messing with him, Gladion is certain she can see the everlasting stern glare in his eyes.

In a moment of spontaneous impatience, the Lieutenant stands up and marches to his superior's desk, where a considerably big pile of unsigned forms sit. "I told you to sign these two hours ago."

The Colonel only seems to take notice of the stack when her subordinate points at them. The girl leaves her trusty book on the desk and scratches her cheek in guilt.

"I got carried away, you see." Not even her light and fully aware tone saves the frown from sinking his face. She hurries to show him the old volume with renewed excitement. "Look at this beauty! It has all herbs of Amestris! There are even drawings and recipes and—!"

The Lieutenant dutifully grabs the volume from her hands, up to where she can't reach it. Moon reaches to try and grab it but he holds it even higher. "I told you to please focus on your duties as a Colonel in the office. And you swore to at least commit to that."

The girl's expression wrinkles in deep sadness at the thought of leaving her book aside. Gladion finds this secretly amusing. "I was just giving it a quick read! There is still a lot of time for me to do all I have to do!"

If there is something Gladion has to admit, it's that Moon usually carries her duties out at the end of the day. Whether she ends up taking paperwork to her apartment (very precariously furnished, he must add) or if she stays after hours, she gets the job done.

He can admit he is sometimes a bit too stern with her, but she truly leaves him no choice. Moon has claimed herself to be the next Führer of Amestris in heated discussions and passionate speeches, but her motivation to walk the road is lackluster to say the least.

And Gladion promised to be there with her until she fulfilled her dream. And to step in her way if she ever went down the wrong path.

In the past she used to slack off much more than she does nowadays, at least he now sometimes sees her doing actual office work.

Which is what she should be doing now. And not reading those medical books of hers.

With a sigh, he puts her book under his arm. She seems dejected at the loss, shrinking in her seat with a slight pout. "You're so unfair sometimes, Lieutenant."

"Just as you are uncompromising, Ma'am."

Moon looks up to see him regarding her with fake impassiveness. Gladion constantly refers to her with the utmost respect even after spouting the cruelest of insults towards her. Eyes cold and dispassionate, face eternally neutral and seldom showing any signs of emotion.

That's the Gladion she came to know. Her faithful to the death Lieutenant. Who she sometimes can't stand when he is as unsympathetic as this.

Moon ends up giving up under his eyes and falling back on her chair. "If I get all of this done, will you let me be?"

The thin line of his lips rises a little at the edges. "Only if you get all of it done."

Gladion, however, doesn't move from his place, and her eyes don't move from his face either. He surveys her with a succinct precision, evaluating whether she will do the promised work or not.

Moon finds the short arrange of expressions completely fascinating, for she puts her cheek on her hand and smirks at him.

"It wouldn't hurt you to smile once in a while, you know." Her eyes twinkle with mischief and sarcasm, artificial warmth coating each syllable she says in that spontaneous flirtatious wording she has. "You have a beautiful smile, after all."

There she goes again. The natural flirt, smooth as silk but terribly unconvincing when it's her book that is in his hands. It's really no wonder many people keep their significant others away from her. Moon has this _suave_ tilt of her words that can serenade even the most stubborn of people.

Not him, though. He has known her for far too long to buy her affectionate words in their workplace—

"I'm not giving you your book back, Ma'am." Gladion sharply turns to go back to his desk. The woman's face falls from her hand to headbutt the polished mahogany of her desk. "Get back to work."

"Aye aye, _sir_." She mutters against the desk, utterly defeated.

— but outside the office, though, that's a different story.


	2. The Signal Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only his luck his Lieutenant happens to be late for work, suspiciously late, and that it seems like things have gone wrong.
> 
> Absolutely and terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SMALL NOTE: I have made the fic be incomplete because I felt better having the number of chapters left sooooooo ya
> 
> Also TERMINOLOGY BOOK FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> Philosopher's Stone: A very powerful gem that hides amazing powers. Its holder/user will be granted a big boost in their powers and their resilience in a battle. Its origins are part of the plot of FMAB, so it will either be revealed later OR you will need to watch it on your own in the series uwu
> 
> Homunculi: They are the villains of FMAB. They are beings fused with these stones and are rendered basically immortal unless they are attacked enough times for the stone's power to be overused. They have tremendous healing abilities and are extremely hard to kill.
> 
> ALSO this chapter includes some of these twists in the original plot I spoke of, which won't be fully explained until chapter 4! Sooo yeet!

_She is fine. She's just late. She's fine._

Gladion frantically paces around his office — _their_ office, his and hers, except her seat is unavoidably empty. Although his Colonel's compromise leaves a little to be desired, she is never this late.

One hour and a half. Ninety-three minutes.

Most times, Moon is right there at her desk doing anything but what she is supposed to. When he enters the office every day, they share quick greetings, their daily schedules, and each part to their desks.

This morning, however, he had come to an empty office. He would have assumed she was out getting coffee if it wasn't for the fact that she does _not_ like coffee and her cap is not hung up.

Everything is just too quiet. As if she had never been there. But he remembers how he had walked her to her apartment last night as they talked about future field jobs, about a new criminal on the loose.

Something just does not feel right.

A knock on the door interrupts his pacing and he turns from her desk to see Kukui at the threshold. "Lieutenant, good morning."

As the man enters the room, Gladion only becomes increasingly aware of how tall Major Kukui is. His skin is deeply tanned, eyes vigorous and with a constant fire keeping him going like the firecracker he is. His hair is dyed red at the edges, something the Lieutenant thinks must be against many etiquette restrictions.

His alchemy gauntlets are not on, so Gladion guesses he must be here for administrative business. "Good morning, Major. What brings you here?"

Kukui looks around the room. "Where did the Colonel go? Hasn't she gotten here yet?"

"I'm afraid not," sighs he, propping himself against her desk. "She must be late. I don't know why I'm surprised."

The Major looks as confused as the other is, albeit more prominently. He looks around the room in search of the woman's belongings, but nothing is there. A nice stack of papers — very likely Gladion's doing — and a book lying on the desk, but nothing else.

"I was actually looking for the Colonel. Commander Miss Wicke has been looking for her and it turns out they had a meeting today with the Führer in her office." Kukui hands him a generous stack of files, all destined to the Colonel.

The string of names brings his mind to instant worry, for Moon missing meetings is _not_ usual at all. And if she had happened to get sick, he _knows_ she would have called him immediately. The situation is too odd for him to overlook it any longer.

The Lieutenant's pause makes Kukui gulp. "So you haven't seen her either, Lieutenant?"

The man in question rubs the back of his neck, hand shaky as he thinks of the many reasons that could back up her absence. Sudden illness, sleeping in after a long night of work, an accident with her stupid medications.

None of them dangerous. Gladion knows she is fine. But he still needs to go check.

He leaves the documents Kukui had brought on her desk and shakes his head. He is rebuttoning up his jacket and grabbing a gun from a drawer in his desk. _Just for caution_ , he thinks, knowing the situation cannot be that severe.

"I will check her apartment. I'm sure she must be playing hooky for whatever reason," he argues as he takes to the double doors of their office. "Call Lieutenant Ilima and tell him to watch over the office while I'm gone. I'm aware you have your own duties, Major."

Kukui nods hesitantly as Gladion leaves with heavy step, his rush to get to her place very evident. The Major's voice echoes as the Lieutenant exits the corridor. "Call me if anything happens!"

The walk to her apartment is quick. He has been there many times, maybe a few too many for their liking. He knows her place to be quaint: a kitchen, a small bedroom, and a bathroom.

It barely qualifies as home, but as she had said many times, she just wants a place to sleep. She will enjoy the luxuries of the presidential house in the future, she said.

He is not surprised by the silence around her neighborhood as he reaches it, for it's not the happiest of streets in Central City. Her building is just as dreary as the mossy streets, and each step he takes towards her door creaks more than the prior.

Her door awaits at the end of the corridor, and after knocking once, no response meets his ears. Gladion pinches the bridge of his nose in silent irritation, something he would never show to the public.

Her weasel demeanor would land him in a graveyard way too soon.

So he knocks once more. "Ma'am, it's me. You are late to work," he reminds her, planting a hand on the doorknob by instinct, impatient by nature. He gives it an unnecessary twist. "Major Kukui is looking for—"

A thrill of dread fills him the second the door creaks open. He had assumed —wrongly, it seems — that the door would be closed. He had used the knob to have something to play with while waiting for her to show up.

The door hangs ajar. Her apartment is clean as ever, windows closed and curtains drawn open. Her plants are watered, water glossing the stone surfaces of her pots. No plates dirty, her bed made, there is nothing out of place.

So he assumes she must be out until he spots an item that convinces him of the worst.

Her medicine book. Her favorite one. The volume with lots of drawings and recipes and 'pretty things a jerk like him would not understand', as she had once put it.

Her uniform is on her kitchen's chair, along with her cap right by the book. Walking to the main door, her keys sit on a wicker basket.

There are no signs of violence anywhere. However, as he paces around the room — and unconsciously clutches the gun to his chest — he steps on a silver item that gleams in the sunlight.

Her State Alchemist pocket watch.

That's when Gladion finally realizes that something is wrong, clutching the object with rage so evident he might as well snap the silverware in twain.

" _Fuck_."

The Lieutenant throws the pocket watch to his jacket and immediately calls Kukui to inform him of Moon's disappearance.

When the Major teases him about the apparent worry in his voice, the Lieutenant grits his teeth, for the faith he has in his Commanding Officer is unwavering.

"That's not it," he grunts, a sigh melting his words. "I bet she's just gotten herself in trouble and she's gonna give me another headache to deal with tonight."

He says it as if this was true. As if his hands aren't shaking. As if he is not _terrified_ for her life after so many years of friendship and camaraderie.

(And he hopes that will calm his little bubbling worries down.)

* * *

When Moon comes to, she is tied to a chair, that much she can tell. Humidity permeates the air around her and exhaustion keeps her eyes hooded. It's a pinch colder than she'd like, the ground is unfamiliarly hard.

She has not been there before.

"Wake up, _Colonel_." She has heard that sentence many times before, but the voice is none the same. Her rank is sputtered with spite. "You have been sleeping for a bitsy too long. What a heavy sleeper you must be."

Her eyes slowly open to the world before her— or the _room_ before her, if wherever she is can even classify as that. Everywhere she sees there's stone, then there's a table at the end of the room and a chair. The room is pretty small and she sees no door anywhere.

It's a prison if the measly ties binding her wrists are any proof of that.

A woman with purple hair and a black tight dress walks before her. Her expression is serious for a moment before a sultry smile shows in her crimson red lips. Dark gloves cover her slender hands, her skin tanned like kissed by sunlight.

This place, however, has not been touched by the light in a long time. "Who are you? And—" Moon wiggles her hands to free herself from the ropes. "Where in the world am I?"

"Now, my name doesn't matter." Her words are slurred out. "You are Colonel Moon, correct?"

"Considering I have a plaque on my office with that exact rank and name, I'd say so, yes."

The Colonel's spark of attitude seems to irritate the other woman, who snarls and plants a heeled boot on the edge of Moon's chair. "I would quit that attitude of yours if I were you, little brat. You don't want your dear Lieutenant to come to keep you company."

The name brings her to a tense position, back stiffening just with the mention of him. Her eyes narrow and any trace of humor is replaced with fire. "Where is he?"

"Not joking anymore, are we?" The edge in the Colonel's voice doesn't appall the woman, who shrugs nonchalantly and gives her question some thought. "He must be looking for you, or maybe he thinks you are slacking off again."

_So they have been spying on us_ , she thinks, not even feeling guilty at such habit being pinned on her. Any shame replaced with worry for her comrade.

"Who are you?" Moon asks again.

"Nobody of importance, at least not yet," she says slowly, then crosses her arms. "Mother has given me the task of bringing you here. After all, you fought in Ishval too, didn't you?"

The name of that region prompts a shudder down Moon's back— not of pleasure, but horror. The terrible atrocities that took place in that region were too plentiful to count, too horrifying to remember. A war with no winner, no cause, just measuring of power of a nation against a defenseless village.

Her in a tent healing the wounded, having to survive until the war was over.

Her eyes turn to a side, hooded with sorrow. "Saying I fought there would be a little of a stretch."

"You still are that woman, aren't you? The Angel of Ishval." The nickname makes her head snap up to the woman again, who looks at her with a knowing smirk. "Oh, don't you like that nickname?"

Is the horror so evident in her eyes? Are the bullet scars still in her skin? Is the trauma still in the grimace of recognition, in the noises of death she can still hear? Why does this woman take so much pleasure in her pain?

"What am I doing here? What do you want to do to me?"

"You are the woman who investigated the origins of the Philosopher's Stone, aren't you?" The Colonel is visibly taken aback by this new question. "A very talented doctor alchemist. The apprentice of the creator of the actual stone."

"Why do you know so much about me?" No answer, just a glare. "Why am I here?"

The woman blinks twice, maybe a bit too fast than what Moon would have found normal. "Hmph." She walks to a darkened corner behind the Colonel, dragging out the wounded body of a person she knows very well.

Her blood runs cold when her eyes land on the cuts embedded across his body. "Hala!" She immediately tries to wiggle for freedom even stronger than before. "What have you done to him!?"

Hala had been her mentor in the past when she was a little kid. An old hermit from the faraway lands of the East, well-versed in Alkahestry. He taught her the first engravings and hand signs and she learned the other techniques she knows now on her own, for Hala had left her village long before her knowledge was useful.

And now there he is, beaten up with a distraught expression in his face. He is at least breathing, that much she can tell.

"Your little friend here," the woman gives him a push so he is looking up, "refused to tell us where his written investigations are. And we were _so_ disappointed with his response we had to hurt him a little bit. But Wrath went a bit too far, I'd say."

_Wrath?_ Moon had never heard such a name before. But all she knows is that if her mentor hadn't wanted to tell them his secrets, they clearly were dangerous.

Her eyes darken as blood drips from his forehead onto the floor. "Who are you and what do you want from us?" Her voice quivers at the end and the woman chuckles at this.

"We still need him. He still needs to give us valuable information, and I'm sure you don't want your dear mentor to be all bruised up like this, right?" She moves to place her heel on Hala's face, digging it against his cheek carefully. "He looks pretty beaten up here."

But Moon is not having it. Hala is unconscious, or so it seems, and not in pain despite the abuse he had endured before. And by how she is tied and no harm has come to her yet, they don't intend to harm her.

"Why would I do such a thing? Hala clearly does not trust you."

"Well, because maybe your dear _Lieutenant_ will get a little beaten up." Something twists and falls within her upon hearing that drawled menace, coated with a smirk. "And you don't want that, right?"

Her eyebrows fall into a murderous glare. "You will _not_ touch him. He can defend himself much better than you give him credit for. He will give you guys a lesson."

" _Oh,_ but we know that," she says, rolling Hala's face to turn to Moon. "He was also in Ishval, right? Just another tortured soul of war."

The dispassionate and emotionless tone she speaks about the war with brings a heavy feeling down her stomach. She does _not_ like this woman, or how she speaks of so many events and how much she knows about them. And she has subordinates, too.

Something sticky is going on. "You just want me to heal him to continue torturing him!? What in the world will you do with me after that?"

The woman rolls her eyes. "You sure are loud. You are so lucky I'm in charge here right now, you brat." She steps over the unconscious man to look down at Moon. "No need to be so loud. Nobody will hear your screams from here."

The Colonel grits her teeth, feeling the constraints of the rope tie her down. However, she also feels that she has her ignition gloves off, but it only takes her a second to realize they have been thrown into a corner behind her.

The silence drags on and on and the woman starts getting tired of it all. "If you don't obey, trust me there won't be a single piece of your friend left. You don't know what we are capable of." The thought of a new victim brings her to lick her upper lip in gee. "We are insatiable beings."

The girl's eyes, however, narrow at that little bit of information. "Why do you want to know more about the Philosopher's Stone? What is your mission?"

"Hm. Hellbent on being friends or what?"

"If I'm going to put Amestris in danger," Moon gulps, "then I should have the right to know who you are. And what you will do with this information."

The woman, again, stares at her in contempt as she thinks about what she will do, and chuckles to herself. Then, she points at herself with a sultry smile. "You can call me Lust, and I'm one of the Homunculi. You won't remember any of this after you are done with that old man, so I might as well show you…"

Before Moon can process all of this information, letting it dawn on her that she has _heard_ of these people, that their taunts and criminal activity are being actively investigated, Lust's tanned skin begins to tear itself apart at the collarbone.

When the flesh is exposed, no blood comes out, just cackles of electricity and power. Deep in the center of her chest lays a gem-like crimson stone. A Philosopher's Stone glimmering under the dim light of the room.

If the action pains Lust, Moon doesn't know, for as the skin is torn apart, it begins to join again. "I have one of these within me. It would take you a long time to even make a dent on me."

Her eyes tremble, wide. " _Homunculi_ …" she tastes the name on her lips, her eyes dart to the sides in remembrance, and then, she gasps. "One of you attacked my subordinate in East City!"

Lust relishes in the furious gritted teeth of her victim. "Hm, it seems you already know of us. What a shame. It totally ruins the surprise." The sigh she drops is fake at best. "Maybe you will be more inclined to not mess with us now that you know of our power."

The Colonel squares her jaw at the woman. Moon swallows down the fury and frustration until it's no more than a coiling snake in her stomach, never quite calming down even as Moon fists her hands and plays with her calloused fingers as if her gloves were there.

After a minute of pause, Moon gives in. "Fine." Her eyes flicker to Hala. "I will heal him."

Lust finally drops her arms and smirks. "Good decision." She walks around Moon to undo her ties. "Don't take too long. We don't like being slow."

Moon is all but tossed off the chair before she quickly scrambles to Hala's side. Lust clearly came prepared: there are sharp knives for her to work with and some porridge she assumes is soothing cream. They know what they are doing.

The Colonel grabs the knives and tosses them in the air so they nail the ground in the correct position. She uses some of Hala's blood to draw a transmutation circle and pushes her hands to the ground, a light blue energy issuing from the seal.

Hala begins to grunt as his wounds close with her Alkahestry's fizz. Lust walks over, arms crossed again and brows pinched. "So the rumors were true. You are _that_ good."

It's not like this is a technique she uses often. After the war, Moon had opted for more traditional means of healing and medicine, hence her interest for pharmacy. Alkahestry could do very little in terms of profound healing, and any curing she does is superficial at best.

"He is not fully healed yet," she explains, ending the process. The energy fades and Hala's eyes begin to open. "You will need to let him rest."

Lust seems surprised at her cooperation and arches an eyebrow. "Sure."

A hand shoots from the ground and Moon turns sharply to see Hala sitting up and grabbing her arm. Moon shifts closer to her mentor, feeling Lust stand right behind her in surveillance. "Please, take it easy. Don't get up too quickly."

"It hurts," mutters the man, holding his head with his hand. His screwed shut eyes turn to the smirking woman above them. "What did you do to me? And why is Moon here?"

The woman shrugs almost innocently. "The Colonel accepted healing you to keep her comrades safe. What an honorable soldier." Then, a heeled boot hits her back and forces her to double over. "And we have her jailed now. Like a rat in a cage."

Her words drip with a venom that makes her gulp. She remains silent, eyes pinching close as she suddenly realizes that she has been driven straight into a trap, heel digging against her spine.

"Mother told me to release you right after this is done, but I don't see the reason to. After all, you are nothing but a pebble on our way." Cruel words soak her heart in fear, but she refuses to let it show. A feverish tremor runs through her back. "But you will die having saved your mentor. What a hero."

Hala watches as Lust's middle finger enlarges, then pierces right through Moon's side with a fleshy, rotting sound. The soft flesh begins to bleed and soak the uniform and the Colonel releases a pitched scream of pain, immediately holding her side as she falls to the floor.

As the crimson liquid leaks to the cobblestone, Hala is pushed to the back of the room as Lust goes to Moon's side again, another needle-like finger ready. "You promised you would leave my people alone if I went with you! Leave my pupil alone!"

Moon's gasps for air don't back Lust away, as she chuckles with gleaming teeth. "It's not in my blood to stick to promises. Too lawful for me," she comments sardonically, stepping over Moon's trembling body.

The girl bites her tongue to not scream. She presses her hand against her side and the thick substance begins to coat her palm. The pain is immeasurable, it crawls through her system and brings dots of blackness to her conscience, fighting with all she has to stay conscious.

Gasps of air are taken as she realizes where she lying and closes her eyes to focus and try to get out of there alive. There has to be a way, she knows...

Lust's boot hits her head and the Colonel winces. "It's a shame you never made it to Führer, Colonel. And that poor Lieutenant… Gladion, is that his name?" Moon remains silent, not allowing her to see her distress. "I wonder what will happen to him, knowing you died here. He will be _so_ resentful. It will be a sight for sore eyes."

Something shifts within Moon as she hears that single name being said.

Hala watches as the girl stops moving, the shaking starting to fade as Lust gives her a little kick that makes the mentor see _red_. The wicked laugh that escapes Lust makes his blood boil. "I guess she didn't last that long, huh? I thought she would wiggle a little bit more and…"

Her words trail off and are interrupted as a hard spike of stone surfaces from the ground and kicks Lust up and to the front of the room with a scream of pain. The mentor walks past his pupil, very aware of the nasty noise his sandals make as he steps on the blood.

Dust is all left at Lust's wake, but before Hala can celebrate his victory, a piercing needle emerges from the shadows and stabs him through the shoulder and aims for the ceiling, making some debris fall behind Moon's corpse and wake even more dust.

The needle is withdrawn and Hala falls to his knees. Lust emerges from the clouds, clearly in pain. "Huh. My aim's faulty lately."

The old man tries to breathe for air as he clasps a hand on his shoulder, and Lust just stands there, very mindful of his tricks. He doesn't speak, blood seeping through his fingers and barely able to gasp out a curse in deep pain.

"I told you not to play tricks with me, Hala." Her eyes slyly turn to the unconscious Colonel. "You don't want to end like…"

Except Moon's body is no longer there, and all that is left as the dust clears is the remains of cackling energy after a quick alchemy trick, weakly pulsating before fading and leaving Lust to stutter a question.

"Hala, step back!"

He barely has time to stumble to the floor as the Colonel steps forward and flicks her fingers, creating a torrent of fire that engulfs Lust in bright light. She cries in pain, wiggles, tries to free herself from the heat, burns once and pants after the fire is gone.

But she is quick to call another, and then another, not letting the Homunculus take a step forward. Her hand is on her own side, letting her wounds remain close after her chaste alchemic trick.

Her fearsome frown terrifies the professor. "I wonder how many times it will take for you to consume that Philosopher's Stone," she comments darkly, anger taking over her generally sweet and bright persona. "Don't bother screaming— nobody will hear you after all!"

Hala cowers to the back of the room as the villain thrashes and screams as loud as possible, backing herself against the wall and trying to throw unaimed needled fingers at Moon, but she keeps throwing her flames without missing a beat, unflinching.

A last sharp arrow is aimed to her heart, but it stills altogether as the flames clear, along with Lust's incessant thrashing. Then, it begins to crumble to pieces.

"I guess it's over," she murmurs slowly. "And here I thought I could defeat you on my own. I was too ambitious, it seems…"

Her last words fade into the dusty air of the jail, air hot and humid. A second after the victory washes over her and she allows herself to be relieved, she removes her jacket and rushes to Hala's side, tearing the sleeve off her uniform.

"Don't worry, I will get you out of here somehow," she stutters out, adrenalin bringing her hands to shake in a familiar fashion. "You need to tell me how they got you here. Maybe you can create a way out of here."

Moon reaches back to grab all knives and create another alchemy circle with her drying blood. Hala is slumped against the wall, panting. "There will be no need to," he gasps out and points a weak finger to the ceiling.

The girl almost curses at her own stupidity. A ventilation tap. Of _course_.

Wounds are closed and they decide to run away as quickly as possible. Hala explains that more Homunculi might show up if they hear people running around their territory, and he promises to explain all he knows later on.

The Colonel puts an arm around Hala's back and they start to descend up the little slope created with alchemy. Fast details are shared and they will run out of there, not able to fight with their precarious wounds.

"Moon, how did you do all that Fire Alchemy? Last time I saw you, you couldn't—"

The girl shakes her head as they exit the jail, and she kicks the cover of their exit on its place. "There's no time for that, it's a long story!"

She soon discovers that they were under a secret tunnel of some sorts, dark all around and without a single arrow pointing to the exit. Hala affirms he knows the way, however, so she decides to trust him.

They rush out of the tunnels. The Colonel has the feeling they barely made it out alive, as it feels like they are being chased by the overwhelming darkness of this place.

Both Colonel and Hala stumble down the main avenue of Central City, where they are spotted by, surprisingly, the Lieutenant's troops.

Turns out he had been looking for her all along, and when he reaches the scene where Moon and Hala are being taken to the hospital, all the girl has time to see is him calling for her by rank.

_Always so professional_ , she sighs.

Then, all fades to black, the sirens surrounding her and a familiar warmth assuring her that all will be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) oh dear


	3. Pills And Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladion wonders why Moon is in such a tough spot at the military when she would better be off with her plants. Where she would be safe.

"You could have seasoned the pork, at least." Moon's face goes stale at his dry comment, watching him wipe his face. "You were the one who taught me how to cook this recipe."

The way she crosses her arms and turns to a side so childishly screams fake annoyance, something that both bothers and charms him. She has that very pungent duality to her he is drawn to in spite of her many childish quirks.

"Hey, I was busy. You called out of the blue!"

The woman gets up to pick the dishes. She motions at his plate and he nods, gesturing he is done. Moon takes them to the sink and turns on the tap, all under Gladion's attentive gaze.

"It was an important matter, you know." His head lands on his palm as he looks around her little apartment. "You are the one who insisted on making dinner."

A little chuckle comes from her. His green eyes inspect her back and clothes carefully: a cream shirt, a coffee pencil skirt, and a headband. She still looks professional despite being the least formal of the two, him clad in just a shirt and jeans.

It is strange for him to meet with her casually like this, despite their years of friendship. Their relationship comes to a halt outside the doors of their office, or so they like to pretend. Meetings like these, so easy and so casual he knows are _not_ professional. No matter how many times he tells himself he just came for the sake of intel sharing and work issues.

Moon washes the dishes and leaves them one by one on a dry cloth. Gladion comes from behind her, towering over her figure for a second, hands in mid-air. Images from her kidnapping fresh in his mind.

He swiftly moves to a side, grabbing a cloth and helping her dry the dishes. Moon regards him with a kind smile. "You don't need to help, you know. It's my house anyway."

"The fact that you didn't help me dry the dishes last time at my place does not mean I won't help you now." His words are so impassive yet poisonous she grimaces and melts to a weakened stance, him taking a plate from her twitching hand. "Besides, I need to remove the ungodly taste of your food from the dishes somehow."

She finishes off with the glass and slams it beside him so hard it almost shatters. Her eyebrows sink into a frown. "You're so rude sometimes, Lieutenant. Constantly calling me useless like that."

He continues drying the remaining plates as Moon waits for his answer to what she considered a burning quip full of wit and bite, but he seems unfazed.

"I know you aren't useless, Ma'am." The grip on the plate he is drying tightens, his face a bit tense. Something raspy in his words. "I know you aren't."

The layer of meaning doesn't go amiss for Moon, who looks at her subordinate in bewilderment at the raw spunk of emotion in his voice. The hand he can't see, limp on her side, balls into a fist, and her bottom lip quivers.

Oh, the wish for her to hug his worries away.

Moon turns away abruptly and grabs herself a glass of water. "If you want to, you can stay the night. You know I will always have a free bed for you."

An offer too dangerous he is too used to rejecting, and so he does swiftly. "Don't worry, you know I don't live that far away." Gladion sees her smile knowingly from the corner of his vision. "And you know I have work waiting at home."

Moon is equally as used to him turning down her good will, but it never hurts to make the offer. "Just as hard-working as always, Lieutenant."

"You could learn a little from me."

Her glass almost falls off her hand in her stupor, and she has no time to see him smile as he turns from the counter and finishes arranging her plates in place. "I already finished my work at the office. I will never offer you a bed ever again, Lieutenant."

Which she doesn't mean, he knows. Moon's hospitality is something he has known about ever since they first met, many years ago. It's a face of her that is hidden beneath many layers of jokes, somewhat cold and scary demeanor to those she doesn't trust and the soft bites to those she does confide in.

Moon has many layers. He must be one of the very few to know the true person concealed under all those shields of spite and cold intelligence. Her charm and cunning belie most of what she can do, all of it terrifying and beautiful.

She just knows how to play her cards very well.

Oh, she would be a great Führer.

As he walks to pick his jacket up — for staying around more than necessary would be a grave mistake, he knows — he notices a particular structure of glass and pots by her window.

The complex arrangement of jars, plants, and droppers roots him to place. Plants of several colors and species bloom under the pale moonlight. Leaves of purple with name tags, vines of deep green and little round berries are blooming from a tall bamboo-like plant.

The dropper and pipe-like system before him look complicated. She must have spent a long time engineering it.

"Ma'am," he hears her leave her glass on the counter and hum in question, "you are deeply passionate about medicine, aren't you?"

The woman finds this question rather odd. She leans her hip against the granite counter and raises an eyebrow in askance. "You already know my answer to that."

Years of battling and dire experiences together had proved him that much, Gladion knows. And the plenty volumes on the matter scattered around her bookshelves and house — one on her sofa, another on the counter, a last one by her wicker key basket — scream almost _compulsive_ interest.

"Yes, but," the question is hard to ask, and he cannot find the right words to word it, "no offense, but, why don't you dedicate yourself full-time to pharmacy and medicine instead of a career as dangerous as this?"

He turns to see Moon staring at him in stunned silence, blinking a few beats too slow. He immediately fears he has asked the wrong question before she is smiling at him almost endearingly.

"Again," arms crossed still, she walks to his side, "you should know the answer to that."

Memories, memories. Her voice is almost nostalgic in the way she smiles a bit too sad, a bit too lopsided. The pain is familiar, shared, ignored in favor of acceptance and hope for the future.

Gladion gulps as she reaches him. Her eyes flicker to the intricate structure, a finger under her chin. "I know, Ma'am. I just can't help but wonder why, sometimes. Seeing these plants, you clearly put a lot of time into them."

This is the first time Gladion has seen her this poised and quiet and it almost scares him, and he can't understand why. He has been with her for ages now, he _knows_ her motives, but he sometimes needs a reminder of why those plants were less important than her current career.

A career that she, at first glance, doesn't seem that interested in.

Moon touches one leaf with the utmost delicacy, then moves to check on the water system. She moves with knowing dexterity. "There is a big garden in the presidential residence," she chuckles. "I wanna build a greenhouse there."

That shallow response almost baffles him if it weren't for the fact that she is smiling a bit too wistfully, deep in thought as she collocates the droppers and pots.

"The war of Ishval was pointless. I wasn't able to save enough people. Each victim had a life, a family to come back to, a home." Coal eyes fall lidded in memory of the people she had had to cure, those that didn't make it to her tent and those who didn't make it through her healing. Her eyes close in contemplation. "Lives were lost in the most pointless of ways. I can't let it happen again. I don't want to see people hurt because of greed and power ever again."

And she knows that is a foolish wish because people will hurt despite her acting or not. It is impossible to stop absolutely all of her people from suffering — but wars can be prevented.

And that's something that the current government had failed at. At preventing this pain and sorrow from surfacing.

Her hands fall on the ledge, shoulders hunched forward. "It's not a path of roses, but if I can protect my people in any way I can, I will." Her eyes twinkle as she stares at the dewy leaves. "Whether it is with a greenhouse and medicine or more power."

A pause floats around them as Moon continues to stare at her plants. Gladion has heard her list her motives like this a hundred times, but this time, things seem clearer. It's as if she has gotten herself together while he wasn't looking.

He knows she is not as uncompromising as she seems. Moon puts work off, but she always finishes it. She likes to read books when he isn't looking and she takes naps once a week in her comfy chair. She jokes around and calls for 'handsome men to help her carry the books to her office', even if she has plenty of muscle power herself.

She's a little minx.

But he has seen her battle, put in the work. She has not gotten to where she is out of sheer luck.

"Well, then you better finish all the work you got left," he teases, earning a pissed pout from her. "Unless you go insane and poison Führer Mohn, I think you're out of luck with that snail pace of yours."

Fondness camouflaged in a straight line so she doesn't see the warmth and the pride. Her shouts and complaints about him being too professional successfully shifting the topic to a new light.

The dropper by her window drips little drops to the pot as the pair exchanges subtle jabs, Gladion's just aiming to deter her light arrogance. Her answering that she will make it to the throne no matter what.

Maybe one day they will know the full story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT CHAPTERRRR because SHORT CHAPTER IS A GOOD CHAPTERR
> 
> I'm off to continue working on projects babai ILL UPDATE SOON


	4. The Angel of Ishval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the desert, a wounded soldier and an angel meet, but by the ways she carriers herself, she might as well be a demon.

Gladion is fully convinced he will die right there.

The dry dirt burns under his calloused fingertips. Blaring sun attempts to blind him, eyes open just a crack. Everything hurts: from the tip of his toes to each of his hairs, pain numbs his body down. In the heat of summer, he feels impossibly cold.

Blood pounds in his head. The raging screams echo across the battlefield and wave into his ears. His eyes tremble, trying to get his bearings.

Steps drag along the dry soil. A pant, the clank of metal as a weapon is loaded. Gladion, the best sharpshooter in that battlefield, had been attacked and brought out of his position to rot and die.

It seems like someone is on their way to finish the job, he thinks grimly.

He can manage to see tan skin and bright red eyes walking towards him, almost stumbling through the waves of heat. Gladion cannot make out their expression. Are they angry? Are they bloodthirsty? Are they as wicked as this war is?

His train of thought is interrupted as the man walks up to him. He is tall, hair gray and full of wounds everywhere his eyes can reach. The revolver is raised, then pointed to his head.

Gladion almost wants to sigh with relief, for at least his pain will come to a halt. The marks on his body will die with him. In his current situation, he finds no joy in surviving.

That is until rushed steps firmly push and stop behind him and a single bullet pierces through the man's skill limply, pulling him to the ground.

Somebody above and behind him pants, somewhere he can't quite see. Then, a hooded figure blocks the sun from his eyes and inspects his wounds quickly, silently. "Can you stand?"

Unable to speak through the pain, Gladion moves his head from side to side. In the back of his mind, he registers that it's a woman speaking to him, and that she is grabbing knives and putting them all around him.

A surge of energy comes under him and he feels the pain over his body begin to dull down. An arm pushes him to sit up as the cloaked figure surveys his wounds with haste. Gladion hazily watches her put her gun on her hip as she holds him up.

"One second later and you would be dead, Sir," she chastises, a hand on her hip as the other searches for more injuries. "I just closed your wounds. I will need to take you to the infirmary."

She is listing a couple more procedures and mutters to herself before he hears the click of a gun being loaded, and before the mercenary can shoot in the distance, Gladion grabs the girl's gun on her hip and points it at the faraway offender.

One single shot is all it takes for the assassin to fall to the ground. The girl reacts to this a second later, whistling. "Good aim you have there, Sir." Gratitude rings through the her words. He pants as the gun falls to the ground and she picks it up again.

The woman helps him stand up. She mentions that she knows a secret, quick way to the infirmary. An arm swung around her shoulder, they make their way there slowly.

"You should have left me there to die," he grunts, wincing as a wrong step causes his side to ache. "I don't have any interest in remaining alive."

Something akin to a chuckle comes from her. "Well, Sir, I don't have any interest in leaving any comrade to die. Especially if they are in my tent's zone. That would be just rude."

She speaks with a spring to her voice. It's uncanny and weird. He has not heard that chirping in a long time, not since this damned war had begun. Whoever this woman is, she must be either insane or very strong-willed.

But Gladion insists. "I have a reason to not want to continue this war. The world will be better left off without the marks of my body."

As she knows he must be in pain, she interprets his ramblings as murmurs of delirium. After all, the heat can't be good for his condition.

"The world is not better off without anybody, Sir. Especially not somebody who had my back being barely conscious." There it is. The gratitude he doesn't want. "We're almost there. Please, hang on."

So he does. Begrudgingly, but he does. They arrive at her tent sooner than expected, a big place full of beds with harmed people. There are some beds devoid of patients, surprisingly, and as soon as they are undercover, the girl removes her cloak.

Only when she pushes him to the bed does he realize who this woman is.

He has heard plenty of stories about her, here and there. A traveler from the West with unfathomable healing abilities, helping the poor in the desert. Others said she is a hermit from Xing. The apprentice of a past Amestrian commander. People called her an angel, others called her a demon.

All he could see in her features is cold professionalism as she opens his shirt and looks over his cuts with narrowed eyes. Guarded, precise, pouring a crystal clear liquid in a needle drop by drop.

She is silent and moves around him swiftly as if gliding through the air. Gladion wonders if she is a ghost.

She is washing her hands by his bed as she talks. "I'm going to have to clean your minor wounds, and I will proceed to cure the rest afterward. You are safe now," she explains.

In his somber state, he can only nod. What is the point of her going through the hassle of curing him when he just does not want to be saved? He can't understand her fixation.

But this bed is better than the hot, dry ground of a battlefield, he supposes.

The woman hands him a thick piece of cloth and pushes it to his mouth. "You better bite into this. I have work to do and your screaming won't help the case." The sentence is almost too cold before she tops it off with a smirk, a crack of her knuckles. "This is gonna take a while."

Why does it feel like she is going to have fun with this then? Gladion has no time to bark at her to stop being so smug because alcohol seeps into his wound and he is biting into the rags.

* * *

"Well, you surely have a strong body, Sir," she praises as she cleans her hands. They are stained red after an hour of surgery. "You can keep the bullets, if you want."

Gladion dismisses her with a shake of his hand. Trying to sit up, he finds that his torso is full of patches and marks. There will be scars, he knows, some uglier than others. But he is alive.

All thanks to this woman he has heard so much about, but still doesn't know what her name is.

He winces with a hiss as he incorporates himself. His dirty shirt is still attached to his body but open at the front. There is no blood on his body anymore, and the stitches are minimal and precise. She's a good doctor, he concludes.

The woman in question comes to him and puts a hand on his back. "Take it easy, Sir. I need to look at your back now."

Gladion nods and swings his legs over the other side of the bed, and her weight bounces on the bed as she sits behind him. However, it is when she is about to peel the shirt off from him that he stops her.

"What I have on my back…" Gladion gulps. "It might not be pretty."

A sound resembling a scoff bursts out of her chest. "I have seen many ugly things, Sir. Don't worry about that."

The infirmary is basically empty at this point, and there is barely any sunlight left in the horizon. It's safe to assume everyone has retired to their tents for the day, and that they are in relative intimacy.

And, in hindsight, she had saved his life, this stranger. And he had saved hers in an act of reckless bravery. At this moment, there are few people he can confide on other than her.

He begins to remove the shirt, previously white, now creamed with dirt. It falls off his shoulders and his back, revealing a bright red tattoo embedded from his lower back to his neck, swirling like a snake with runes and writings all over the symbol.

The act of his deranged Mother, who he no longer has a memory of. If he were to see that wrecked genius, he wouldn't even be able to recognize her.

This pain had been inflicted when he was too young to comprehend the danger now anchored to his skin.

Delicate touch traces the churned skin. Her breath hitches, and for a second, he is scared of what she might say. What comes out of her mouth is the least thing he had expected to hear.

"Flame Alchemy," she murmurs, almost disbelievingly, voice pitched in awe. "You're…" A gulp. "Gladion, right? That's your name."

The mention of his name prompts him to sharply turn around. His fingers are bunching the blankets under him. "How do you know my name?"

He watches the woman is inspect the tattoo. A mixture of grief, interest and subtle horror crosses her eyes.

"Because I have been looking for you. For years, now."

Such calm statement makes him choke with a gasp, and his eyes shift to hers slowly. He finds her to be sitting cross legged on the mattress, a first-aid kit on her lap and cotton on her left hand. The way she looks at him brings the word 'interest' to mind.

"My name is Moon," she finally presents herself, and he realizes that he has heard her name many times before. "I'm a traveller pharmacist. I specialize in Alkahestry from Xing, which my mentor Hala taught me. But he went missing some years ago, and I'm looking for him."

"Xing?" Moon nods. "You walked through the desert? Just for your mentor?"

"That man was the one to teach me the basics of all I know. My parents… were taken away by the State, as far as I know, and never came back. So he raised me," she explains.

For some odd reason, she does not falter while explaining these dire circumstances. Gladion finds the detail particular. "You don't look that sad about it."

When she blinks, something shifts and a small shiver runs down his spine.

"My parents were taken by Amestris, and when I came looking for them, I realized that I couldn't just up and ask about them, so I stayed for a while. It's a lovely place full of lovely people."

Gladion wants to agree, but his love for the country is not as passionate. It's a land full of corruption and greed, this stupid war they are in being the best example of Amestris' corruption.

He lets her continue. "I was told that a woman in the North knew a very powerful way of alchemy, but when I reached her house, I was told that she was dead."

Gladion's mother had died of sickness, or so he remembers. His father had never truly been there, and all he can remember about his childhood is his mother's obsession with alchemy, with power, and sickness thawing her health until she finally collapsed in bed one night.

Or so he had been told by his family's doctor, for Gladion had ran away to East City when he was fifteen. After being his mother's subject for her alchemy, his memories of that time are foggy at best, only recalling few images about his own childhood.

But he knows that she is dead. And that the only remain of her and her obsessions on Earth are inked on his back.

Moon sighs after a long pause. "The doctor told me to search for Gladion, her son. I was told you ran away from home, so I travelled all across the country and desert looking for you and my mentor."

The irony of them meeting finally in a war like this doesn't go amiss for her. A bitter scoff escapes her, one he almost reciprocates.

"You found me, then," he speaks sourly, head downcast. "What do you want from me?"

Hesitation. A sigh, another touch right where he knows the symbol begins.

"I want to learn Flame Alchemy."

Silence. A pause so long and so deep he is sure it's making more noise than the shots outside. His heart pounds in his ears again, not from pain, but from utter disbelief this time.

When his eyes meet hers again, all that illuminates her is the flickering flame of an oil lamp. She is still looking at his back as he looks at her from over his shoulder. Her fingers trace the runes on his back very gently.

He had never been touched like this.

There is something in her eyes that he can't quite see, can't reach. But the gentleness of her touch betrays the cold tone of her eyes.

He is still terribly skeptical. "What for?" His voice is a pained whisper. "You are a pharmacist."

Truly, Gladion expects any sort of answer. He has heard many people ask about it with varying degrees of greed and ill intentions, but the result was always the same: a wave of his hand and a threat of his gun to never step close to him again.

Flame Alchemy is dangerous. It's a tough branch of alchemy to learn. The very few things he has looked into over the years have always overwhelmed him. Complex chemistry, control and knowledge.

So he can't help but wonder what a girl like her would want to do with such alchemy.

Her answer doesn't let itself be missed.

"I am still looking for my parents. And for Hala, my mentor. And if I want to find them, I need to be powerful, so they are never taken away from me again." Her index finger digs into the end of the drawing. "So I can protect all I care about."

He has never heard that excuse. Or not with that degree of emotion, at least.

She speaks with tough words and her hands scream discipline just from how they look: patched up with bandaids, little scars in her palms. She has fired a gun at a mercenary without knowing who he is, cured him and dragged his ass out of the battlefield even when he thrashed and rejected her help.

He has never seen somebody so ridiculously stubborn. Headstrong enough to cure his wounds. He has heard plenty of stories about how she has fought chimeras in the desert and cured whole hospital wings with her knowledge.

It's weird to think he probably knows more about her feats than she knows about him, and it makes him wonder if she really knows what she is getting herself into.

"What tells me that you will not use this alchemy to go against those that have taken your people away?" he says through gritted teeth, throwing a pointed cold gaze at her.

Cold enough to freeze. Strong enough for a weak soul to back off. It has always worked, after all. Stale, silent, too calm, too tranquil. Stoic enough to ignite fear in his enemies.

"If I ever stray from the path I have set myself, then you have permission to shoot me in the head." Her bold statement would make him flinch if it wasn't so dire, if it wasn't a reasonable offer.

There's still one small detail that escapes him. "And how am I supposed to find you if that were to happen?"

The fire from before surfaces through the charcoal slate of her eyes, a smirk threatening to curl her lips as she crosses her arms.

"That will be very easy," she claims. "Because I'll be the next Führer of Amestris."

Moon, he decides in that moment, is absolutely insane.

So insane that her idea might just work.

He looks at her for a minute. Deep, paused, for a while. Searching for any hint of a joke in her eyes, her face. There's nothing, other than a line of arrogance and confidence in her features.

This unusual encounter must be a work of faith, he concludes. And at this rate, he is not one to reject what comes his way anymore.

He bends forward, elbows on his bruised knees. "If you want to learn it so badly," he concedes, "I will let you study the symbol with the condition you burn it off afterward."

The girl actually flinches at this condition. As the pharmacist she is, she surveys the skin of his back with pinched eyebrows. "Burning it off… it will hurt a lot."

"I don't care," he says firmly. "Even if you have to burn my whole body. I don't want anybody to learn this alchemy ever again. Not if alchemy can create wars as catastrophic as these. I don't want to see these atrocities happen ever again."

Because his enrollment in the military had been very impulsive, driven by his talent. He is the best at all he does, is probably the best sniper of the whole army but soon after the war began, all he saw the first week had been about enough.

And he doesn't want to see it anymore. She seems to catch this implication by the way he sees her eyes widen from the corner of his sight.

It takes Moon a pause to agree, and when she does, it's only a small nod. Her fingers touch the skin once more as if memorizing how it feels. As if she would miss it. Maybe her appreciation for his body is merely medical, he considers.

Then, she grabs a cotton ball and drops some alcohol on the material. "I promise it will hurt as little as possible."

Gladion has no option but to nod back, and hiss as she resumes her procedures with the same analytical gaze of hers, all softness of intimacy gone.

In the seven years this war has been raging on, he has never felt more at peace than now.

And the following day, the war is declared to be over.

* * *

"Colonel, somebody wants to see you."

Moon turns her chair casually and leaves her book on the side of her desk. The office is only illuminated by the sunlight, birds chirping in the distance as a familiar blond figure enters the room.

The door closes and Gladion marches to stand before her desk, saluting in a way that Moon still can't get used to. He still wears the same impassive and dispassionate eyes he taught her alchemy with, the same rigid and harsh posture.

The same eyes he bid her farewell with too, those months ago.

And now here he stands. Gladion in the flesh.

Moon perches her chin on her entwined hands. "Here you are. So you've decided to go down this path, even after all that happened in Ishval?"

His salute falls, hand on his side. She can hear his gloves's fabric grinding as he balls his hands into fists. "It wouldn't be fair of me to not come along after all I have done. I can only bear the burden of my sins by using my life to protect those I care for."

Her eyes fall close in contemplation of his words, so very true. Even though their burdens are not the same — him having killed too many, her not saving enough people — the bitter resent for the war exists all the same.

"Besides," her eyes flutter open, "I heard a lot about a rising alchemist that recently made it to Colonel. I reckoned I needed to come and make sure things were going okay."

_And that your abilities are being put to good use_ , she hears in his silence. He doesn't speak from resent or distrust, but pure fear of things going wrong.

Moon suddenly gets up from her chair, which creaks at the absence of weight. "Very well," her firm voice hardens his eyes, "I'm appointing you as my assistant, going forward. I want you to watch my back."

Gladion doesn't show any signs of understanding, nor of confusion.

"This means, you have all permission to shoot me dead the moment I stray from the accorded path." Something in her eyes seems to glint, piercing through his soul with compromise and resolution. "Will you follow me?"

A beat of pause pauses as she offers him to walk by her side.

"Of course," he accepts. Because he knows the burden she carries, but also the burden she had freed him of by burning that anvil of his past away. By swearing to protect what she cares for.

By joining the military, only to fulfill that purpose, even if it puts her and her mission in danger.

He has unmovable faith in her.

"I will follow you to hell, if you so desire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oopsie oops ISN'T IT fun TO CHANGE THE CANON WORLD TO YOUR OWN WISHES TEHEE
> 
> I'm a lona monster sigh


	5. The Ouroboros Symbol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A florist and a Colonel have a talk on the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This chapter contains spoilers for the original series, so tread carefully!]

Boisterous laughter comes from her desk.

"I should be able to drop by your shop tomorrow evening, I suppose." Moon curls the cord of the phone around her finger, smirking as her eyes look at the ceiling. "I could bring you a souvenir if you want."

A few subordinates of hers walk around the office carrying books and papers, watching the scene in utter disbelief. Sergeant Mallow, Moon's most trusted investigation expert, shifts her eyes from the happy Colonel to her aid, Warrant Molayne.

"What's up with the Colonel today?" She hands the taller man a stack of neatly folded papers. "Did she finally get a boyfriend?"

"As if. She's probably hitting on some poor officer from Major Kukui's unit." Molayne rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "She's such a handful, sometimes."

Moon is notorious for using the State's phone line for rather unusual endeavors, one of them being her overly friendly and almost _flirtatious_ deeds during these calls. Many names hidden under sinister giggles and girly sighs that don't suit the terrifying Colonel at all.

Knowing her, she is probably about to get somebody in trouble again. The officers sigh and resume their duties as Moon smiles into the phone.

"You are just being a big baby, Gladolus," she says endearingly, voice casual and almost sweet. "I will get you something next time, don't worry."

His voice comes from the other end of the line.

" _Ah, you'll have to excuse me for a second, Moonbeam. Somebody came for a complaint."_

She hears distinct shots. Normally, him and her would be way too professional to ever regard each other so casually, but during secret private missions like these, they had to resort to roleplaying and codenames to avoid any suspicion from Central's higher military brass.

There had been some rather suspicious findings in the main laboratories of Central City, and Gladion was dealing with it with the aid of Sergeant Sophocles, her most trusted tech expert. As far as she knows, he is perched on the highest of towers of Central City as a sniper, watching over the scene.

This is a mission the Military cannot know about.

Judging by how everyone looks at her as if she is insane, everything is working out.

And she knows he absolutely _hates_ that codename but that's what he gets for finding out her full name and teasing her about it for weeks. At least they'd put it to good use.

Suddenly, Moon hears a loud shot from his end and the grip on the phone tightens. "I heard a loud noise, is all okay?"

" _Mhm. Just a feisty customer looking for a fight. Some people just have no manners. I had to make him learn the hard way."_

The Colonel leans back on her chair, biting her lip at his manners. "Oh, Gladolous. You are such a rude swine."

A snicker comes his way, barely audible, but she relishes in the sound regardless. After more than a decade of friendship in the Military, their chances to be this casual can be counted with the fingers of a hand.

Moon hears him giving orders to Sophocles — code name: Antigone — which she guesses are later given to Second Lieutenant Ilima — code name: Frangipani. A few more shots, some screaming in the distance.

She spins her office chair around casually. "I hear some ruckus in your shop." A smirk. "You should hire guards or you will get assaulted one day."

" _You know I would never let that happen. I know of somebody who is a bit of a loser without me around."_

The girl's expression visibly deflates into annoyance at such uncalled for comment. He must have heard her actually grunt, for a small chuckle escapes his lips, breathy against the speaker.

" _Besides, you agreed to drop by tomorrow, Moonbeam."_ A shot. _"I need to show you our new flowers in stock. You looked rather interested last time we met."_

The way he keeps the charade going between orders and shoots has her mildly impressed. She looks out the window and finds the sun to be setting. "I will be there in the evening. Are there any presents that would be of your liking, Gladolous?"

The line goes silent for a short second, and the lack of comment to her question brings her to arch an eyebrow.

"What's the matter?"

" _Looks like one of our customers got into trouble again. They seem to be in an argument with another of our patrons."_

Moon nods and hums for verbal approval. However, something on his end makes his breath hitch against her ear, coming fuzzy through the phone.

" _Actually, I'm afraid I have to go. I have a customer asking for me, it seems."_

The Colonel has no time to ask questions before she hears shot after shot blasting on her ear, loud enough to be heard even outside the call. The pace and aggressivity of his shotgun grow to the point she is drumming her fingers against the desk in light worry.

His earpiece clatters and falls to the floor. Moon immediately gets up in agitation.

"Gladolus? Can you hear me?" She yells to the phone, eyebrows wrinkled and teeth squared. "Gladolus!"

A quick image flashes through her mind. The memory of a slumped body by a telephone box, blood seeping down the steps and soaking the slick cobblestones. A fallen comrade, assassinated when she hadn't been there to stop it.

Her eyes widen, her stomach falls like an anvil and her expression darkens. A choked grunt pushes past her throat. The idea of _it_ happening again too much for her to bear.

The idea of it happening to _him_ too hard for her to swallow.

She cannot let it happen again.

Moon slams the phone on its base.

* * *

Gladion is not sure what to think of what he is seeing, but he can conclude this creature is not human.

Big body crowned by a round, flattened bald head. Tiny eyes, no pupils, just soulless white. Thick arms, fingers that feel like frozen butter as they asphyxiate him. His gun trembles in his grasp as he points it at the drooling creature, who eyes him like he is about to devour him.

He can see the many bullet holes on its head. One eye is pushed inwards, his forehead is profusely bleeding, but no signs of pain are made.

"Do you give up?" The voice is wobbly, giddy, like that of a child. But this creature is too big to be a kid. "Are you done? Can I _eat_ you already?"

He tries to utter out a scream for help, but no words escape him. His throat burns, his lungs can't push air into his body anymore. The lack of oxygen is rendering him dizzy, and his gun lowers until it slips off his grip, limbs slack and hovering over the floor.

The creature's hold tightens a notch. Its mouth begins to open: thick drool between its human-like teeth, yet a fat tongue comes out to prove its true nature. A red symbol is engraved into it, one he cannot understand. He is sure he has seen it before.

Warm breathing fans across his face along with the endless cave of its mouth, all black, so much so it seems infinite.

Yapping, feet rushing to his side and a familiar dog biting on the creature's neck. Alarmed, it lets go of Gladion and throws him to a nearby wall, him struggling to breathe as Silvally bites new wounds onto the creature.

Sophocles screams for his attention, having rushed upstairs. A gun is tossed in his direction. "Lieutenant, take this!"

He is quick to his feet and stands up, aiming his gun at the monster as Silvally hops off its back. Bullets pierce through its big body, cracking full bulletholes and creating splashes of blood on the floor.

But then, bullets run out and Sophocles and Gladion are not sure what to do but watch the creature stagger back, then forward, and raise its arms and stick its tongue out as its wounds disappear under sparks of electricity.

"Out of ammo? Are you out of ammo?" it taunts, causing the two soldiers to take a step back. "Then, it's time to eat!"

The creature has no time to launch its body towards Sophocles and Gladion, for an explosive torrent of fire kicks it backward and tosses it out of the tower, crashing loudly on a building down below them with a scream of pain.

A panting Moon supports herself against the threshold, hand falling to her side as a drop of sweat falls down her jaw. "Thank God I made it in time."

Sophocles immediately lets his gun down in relief, sighing as the source of danger is gone. Gladion, however, utters out her rank name in disbelief.

Then, he takes a step towards her and points a finger at the Colonel. "Why in the world did you come here?" She takes half a step back and grimaces at his reprimand. "This is a secret mission! You should have stayed in your office and everything would have been fine!"

The girl's stance deflates from her temporary victory and visibly pouts and sulks at him being this stern even when she saved his life, but also aware of the fact that he is _very_ right and she had just allowed her instincts to sweep her off her feet.

Sophocles watches Gladion poke her on the shoulder with a frown. "You just had to come here and ruin the operation! How irresponsible can you be, Colonel?"

Moon blinks in surprise at his outburst, but it's nothing she is not used to, sadly. Her rushing to her comrades' side just for overthinking and downplaying her comrades' abilities is a habit she still has to break free from.

But they both know she doesn't do this on purpose.

Especially not after what had happened these last weeks, which is the only thing holding him back from tossing her out of the tower with that creature.

Moon sighs, then curls a strand of her hair around her index finger, accepting the scolding. "Fine, I'm an idiot, whatever."

This lightens the situation temporarily before Sophocles is informing the Lieutenant about their objective running away, probably prompted by Moon's _grandiose_ measures.

Quick orders are given, and Sophocles remains at the top of the tower with Silvally, the faithful guardian barking and wagging its tail.

Colonel and Lieutenant make it down the stairs.

"Ma'am?"

Her walking a step faster than him, hums in question.

"Thank you."

_For coming. For caring. Even when you shouldn't have._

Still quite agitated after her race to the tower, she doesn't make a fuss about his gratitude and dismisses it in favor of the mission at hand.

"We'll talk about it when this is over. I can't wait to get to bed."

Gladion just smiles and deems himself to be a bit lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have sm stuff to post I literally forgot to post this I'm so sorry rgfhbslpa


	6. There Where One Can't Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon is clad in black. The world keeps going without one of her friends by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS SO PLEASE SKIP IT IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED FMAB YET THANK YOU <3

Moon had not expected to dress herself up for a funeral this early in her life.

Yet there she is. Monday afternoon, dressed in black clothes with her military cap over her face.

Everyone is gathered around her. Major Kukui is somewhere to her right, face equally as forlorn as hers. Her Lieutenant is a little bit behind her. Even the Führer is attending the burial, baton under his hands as the casket is lowered down into the ground. Not that many people have attended the burial.

Of all the people she had expected to see in a coffin, she would have never expected it to be him. Her brother in arms. Her trustworthy partner during the Ishvalan War. Her best friend.

He who had promised to lift her to the Führer's throne. Encouraged her to chase her dream.

But here he lay. Six feet under the ground with Amestris' mantel over the wooden casket. Dirt being thrown to finally give him peace.

Her lips quivered at the memory of the gruesome details she had been given about the murder. Her eyes sting, threaten to water.

" _The Lieutenant was found dead within a telephone box. Details have not been disclosed yet but it seems like a gun procured several wounds to his chest. All we could find other than the gun and his body were a picture of his family."_

Which she assumed he had been holding before his time of death. A photograph of his happy and ideal family.

A family that now watches him being buried. A daughter that doesn't understand, begins to tear up and sob. The Colonel conceals a grimace and bites back the tears.

Moon's expression wrinkles in bitterness. She finds the irony ugly: a man so happy, cheerful and dedicated to his job being shot to death without mercy. Gruesome, careless. Nothing like the man she used to call a best friend.

A best friend that had tried to call her from said telephone box, but when she had responded to the call, the line had gone dead. Had she been more attentive, perhaps he would still be alive.

No sooner had his death been communicated to her, she had fallen to her knees. The news too fresh, still unable to comprehend what had gone wrong.

The remorse had been chasing her day and night, tucked her to bed and opened a pìt in her stomach. Even Moon, rarely to be seen getting emotional in her usual calm demeanor, had broken down the second she got home.

As the little girl cries in the distance, the Führer's baton trembles, Moon guesses in emotion. After all, watching a girl so young cry for her father can make the toughest of people cry.

Just like she is about to do if she doesn't stand tall and hold her breath until the burial is over.

Birds chirp in the distance, the sky is clear. Whether it is signifying that he died happily or it's just God messing with her, she doesn't know.

But a man dying at the frontlines and Moon not being able to save him has nothing to be cheerful for.

So she wishes it'd rain, instead. Maybe she would be able to shed tears without a single care.

Moon stays at the graveyard long after the procedure is over and everyone is gone. Her figure is nothing but a shadow in the sunset, casting shade upon the gravestone of her fallen comrade. A light breeze pulls at the ends of her black coat, moving her air around.

Her eyes stare deeply at the name carved on the polished stone.

_**Colonel Sun** _

1885 - 1914

_Promoted to Brigadier General, after dying in the line of duty._

She has read the lines at least fifteen times in the time she has spent standing there, but it never stops sounding wrong but so _right_ in her mind.

 _Two ranks up after what happened_ , she thinks grimly, her eyes concealed by the shadow of her cap, _what's the use of being promoted when you said you'd support me from under me, dumbass?_

Her shoulders stiffen as she hears somebody come from behind her.

"Ma'am."

Her eyes turn from the stone to her assistant, also clad in black. They share a gaze of understanding, just a second of brief contact as Moon understands that, unlike Sun, Gladion _is_ there.

He has always been there. He would always be there.

A sigh brushes past her lips. "I find it too ironic that Sun died like this. Trying to get a hand on what is going on at Central City at the moment. Doing things I wouldn't even think about doing."

Against Moon's orders, Sun had entered the library of the building in search for documents. Him and the Colonel had been going back and forth with ideas and whispered conspiracies that could help understand the intricacies of Central's corruption.

Whatever he had discovered had been silenced by bullets and the rain.

Gladion listens to her in silence. His jacket is hanging from his bent arm, regarding her with the same cold but patient eyes she had gotten used to over the years,

Honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"I was just beginning to understand what that girl had been thinking to perform Human Transmutation, trying to bring her mother back from the dead but…" She puts the cap a bit further down her head, hiding her eyes further from her assistant. "I think I understand it a little bit better now."

Because if she didn't know better, she would try it. Anything to bring her partner back to her side so he could continue pestering her about his desire for happiness, to buy back his grandad's island with his retirement money. To get rich to support his family and make his dreams come true.

Moon can't help but smile at the memory. What a greedy bastard, he was.

Even when they first met in the tent of her infirmary did he ramble about his dreams after the war.

" _I will buy a big house for my family, and I'll get that island back from the State. I won't let them continue their arrogant and evil business for much longer, just they wait!"_

The Lieutenant finally breaks his silence. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

Moon lets the memory go with a sigh, adjusting her cap over her head a bit better. Only does she now notice that she has been shaking, but she can't be concerned about it now.

"Mhm. I'm fine," she murmurs, lifting her gaze to the cloudless sky. "Ah, will you look at that. It has started to rain."

The boy follows her gaze only to be confused, and blinks back at his superior. "There is no rain, Ma—"

But his words die as he sees a line of tears streaming down her cheek, bottom lip quivering with concealed sobs.

Her voice trembles. "Yeah. It's raining."

Gladion only understands her words when she speaks so softly, and he decides to agree, looking up to the sky. He places a secure hand on her lower back, hoping the contact will soothe her from her torment.

"It seems like the downfall will only get worse. We should get going, Ma'am." A quiet nod from her, whose tears wordlessly trickle down her jaw, slow. "It will get cold soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this one uwu


	7. The Legacy of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon might be rumored to be a healing priest, but she knows better than to take those compliments at face value:
> 
> Alternatively, it's also where Moon realizes the wastes of pain she has left on Gladion's body, and it just never gets easier.

A hiss.

"Can you go a bit slower, Ma'am? It stings."

Moon just dabs the sanitizer harder on his skin with a deadpan. "You don't have that right after getting yourself ambushed. What were you doing out so late in the night?"

Gladion really has no answer to that, and just bites the complaints back as she fixes his shoulder. He had been out on a stroll with Silvally when a shadow had come from a corner and tried to ambush him.

When the lampost lights had thrown some clearance on the figure's identity, Gladion had only paused for a quick second to pretend being surprised, then shot right away at the offender.

An empty armor, to civilians a ghost embedded into the armor. To the well-versed in alchemy like him and Moon, it's just an armor with a soul in it. He hadn't been able to shoot at the transmutation symbol, but when the creature saw Gladion was not afraid in the slightest, it took off.

Luckily, he had called Warrant Molayne to chase it down, as he lived nearby. Ilima would probably be on the chase as well.

However, the fight had left some wounds on his body. That armor had had a weapon with it and did some damage on his arms and back.

So he stumbled to Moon's place with a petty excuse he didn't need, because the Colonel hysterically shoved him to her place after seeing the smallest trace of blood.

"I was taking Silvally out for a walk. I didn't have time to do it this morning because a certain Colonel hadn't taken her documents to the Führer's office." He sees her flinch and pout at the accusation.

Moon puts a bandage over his forearm to cover the cut. She gives the tender place a few pats before getting up from her stool, hands dirty and scissors stained. Gladion looks at her handiwork while she turns on the tap.

"I still don't get it, though. An empty armor?" Her head shakes as she washes her utensils.

The Lieutenant surveys his other wounds, which she has stitched carefully and closed with alkahestry. He still needs to have them properly treated, though. "We have seen an empty armor before. It's nothing new, Colonel."

"I know, Lieutenant, but seeing one of those is already unique." Her voice comes through gritted teeth. She's either trying hard to wash her scissors or worried. "Where could that armor have come from?"

"Probably one of the laboratories of Central City. I was walking close to one of them, but I still don't understand what it would be needed for."

Deep thinking rings through their pause.

"Did you manage to catch it?" She turns momentarily. He shakes his head and she curls her lips in distaste. "I should have left you bleeding outside so you learn to do your duties right, Lieutenant."

"I wouldn't have been where I was in the first place if it weren't for your laziness, Ma'am."

The scissors clatter on the sink as she raises a fist. "Hey! I was busy last night!"

"Right." It only takes him one look to see what she had been busy with. "Your little herbal construction here is looking pretty clean and polished, Ma'am."

He expects her to come up with some witty retort or an excuse, but surprisingly, she just calmly shakes her head. "I did that over the past weekend. I was busy with something else."

Her words fall to a whisper in the end, causing the Lieutenant to quirk an eyebrow in question. "I see. May I ask what happened?"

Moon's shoulders stiffen and she abruptly closes the tap. He finds this suspicious. "I was… working with Sun on a few things. I'm afraid I can't tell you about it, at least not yet."

"Getting yourself in trouble again, I see?"

The Colonel grabs the scissors in a way that screams annoyance, but she doesn't verbalize the sentiment. She motions him to turn around. "I need to check your back."

As he does what she asks, he finds her rounding her bed to sit behind him. Ever since their Ishval days, Moon has always worked the same ways when it comes to his back: him on her bed and her sitting close behind, usually cross-legged, other times in a lotus position, Indian style.

There's always just a dim light and silence around them. Gladion is not sure if she does it on purpose. Maybe she doesn't want him to feel exposed with his tattoo in the open, or maybe she doesn't want to think about the scars her fire left behind.

"I got a call from Ilima right before you came. Apparently, they caught the guy," she comments as she gets comfortable. "We'll have to go to the ammo storage sheds later. Molayne is waiting for us. I won't take very long."

Gladion nods and takes the cue to remove his shirt. Moon never asks him to remove his clothes unless strictly necessary, mostly because she knows of how self-aware he is about the many scars on his body.

And when he discards the garment, that self-awareness comes back with a vengeance. The times the Colonel sits down to treat his wounds are rare and far in between nowadays, but the few times she does it, it's always as if he's naked in front of her.

As always, she stays silent for a few seconds, taking in the image. Patches of skin are scattered throughout his back, churned and stained with faded pink. Where words lay only stains of red remain, and what used to be an alchemy symbol now would pass as a cool tattoo.

But she knows it's anything but cool.

A sigh. It's always a bit harder to treat that zone of his body, and it should be as easy. It's just _skin_ , she tries to rationalize, but there's a story under those marks she cannot forget.

Gladion awaits her touch, silent, as always.

Then, her finger traces down his spine, and he fights back a treacherous shudder. "At least these healed well."

He nods curtly. "They did, Ma'am."

The way he refers to her like that always breaks the spell. Always brings them back to methodical professionalism. But not this time.

She wonders if it hurts. If showering under hot water with those stings. If looking at himself in the mirror terrifies him after the abuse he had endured. Moon wants to ask if she hurt him further by asking for his help. If he was ever scared of her sharing his secret.

Eyes hooded, distant, she traces the edge of one of his scars. "Does it hurt, Lieutenant?"

She tries the same. Tries to be professional even when this procedure is anything but. Her fingertips are soft against his sensitive skin, and if he focuses on it, he can feel her laboured breathing on his pale back.

Gladion shakes his head. "It doesn't. You took good care of them."

A bitter chuckle bubbles past her mouth, eyes tender as she examines the tattoo. "It's the least I could do." Examining it, she concludes that, indeed, the formulas are no longer legible. "The least I could do, really," she repeats.

Sometimes, when she comes tired from work after a bad day, Moon wonders if she removed enough parts of his tattoo. She wonders if he is over the issue as he said he was that day.

The day she burnt off the mark had been hard. Tears from her, grunts and screams from him. Instant healing, a thousand apologies for hurting him when she has the hands of a healing priest. Sometimes, Moon wonders why he is with her, standing by her side, defending her back, when he could very well hate her for taking up a science that had potentially ruined his life.

The thought erupts through her and she stifles a noise of emotion, a sob without tears.

Her forehead softly touches his back. She hears the very quiet inhale of air he takes. "I'm glad it doesn't hurt anymore." Her hands tremble under the lamplight, they rise an inch and hesitate. They fall again on the mattress. "I'm so glad."

His body rises and falls as he breathes deeply in and then out. Letting her words soak his whole being, relief ringing so loud and clear she might as well be somebody else. Because his Colonel is not this emotional person to the public eye, but somebody else.

Only he knows of these little moments of peace between them. Of the walls she creates, of the holes she has strategically prodded in her system for him to see and shoot her if anything goes wrong.

And he respects it. He is patient, closes his eyes and breathes.

They share a small moment of silence.

Then, Moon is rapidly pushing herself off and letting out a shaky breath. "Right, let's get back to business, Lieutenant. We can't leave Molayne waiting with that creepy armor."

Gladion nods and his brief moment of relief is interrupted by soft cotton applying bolts of sanitizer on his wounds. He hisses, "Colonel…"

She huffs and her body shifts as she contorts in faux annoyance. "Sush. Don't get yourself cornered by an armor ever again if you don't want to go through this."

Seeing the amount of emotional and physical labor it entails, he might as well quit the Military altogether, he ponders.

But there's no way he'd ever leave her side.

Not when she still has a throne to occupy and a dream to complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look FINALLY A CHAPTER THAT IS NOT A SPOILER YEET


	8. The Light Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's so dark in here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could count as spoilerish???? Because of what is mentioned to happen??? It doesn't reveal the plot and the good parts of FMAB right away but it spoils sth that I will also post later but just know ITS KINDA SPOILERISH AND SAD SO WALK CAREFULLY

Lieutenant Gladion has never been one to back off from a battle.

He looks at the door in front of him. Wooden, dark, a number carved in the metallic slate. He can hear hushed voices inside the room already, probably whispering to not startle the Colonel.

Gladion himself has been discharged a bit earlier than intended. One nudge here, some tricks of his sleeve, and the nurse had let him go with some bits of advice to cure those wounds and some painkillers.

His first thought had been that he already has a good enough nurse to look after him, until reality crashed in and now here he stands in front of the door, hands shaky and labored breath.

The battle is over. Amestris has been saved once and for all. Everyone is safe, sans some casualties here and there that would be taken care of soon.

And luckily, Moon is not one of them.

But she had been close, _so_ close, and so had he. Blade to his throat, her hands tied to the floor. Screaming, so much blood, wicked laughter.

And then, the price to pay for Amestris and its salvation. A price too high for him to swallow at the moment.

His hand finally clasps the knob, making a small noise that halts the conversation within the room. Knowing he has been noticed, Gladion decides it's time for him to enter the room and face the consequences of war.

He walks in.

Lieutenant Ilima is sitting on a wooden stool by her bed, a book on his hands. Warrant Molayne is on a bed close to hers, reading a book he has seen somewhere in his Colonel's house. Finally, she lifts her eyes up at the noise, and so does Ilima, who waves at him.

Gladion gulps at her. Her head and hands are thoroughly bandaged, some more disappearing under her hospital gown. She wears a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes aren't reaching him, either.

Her eyes cannot reach anything anymore. They stare at him aimlessly, in his direction, but not quite focused on him as they always were. They are a pale shadow of what they used to be.

During the final showdown under the grounds of Amestris, him and Moon had been cornered by enemies and forced to make a decision. A blade slicing his throat, blood spraying everywhere.

She had been given an option to save him. An option with a price too high for him to let her go through with it. And he knows that if he had let her, she would have accepted without a single thought.

Not that it mattered anyway, because in the end he had been saved by allies and Moon had been pinned to the ground and forced to commit the ultimate sin of alchemy.

Commit Human Transmutation. Open the Gate of Truth. Obtain immense power, become sacrificial fodder— all at the cost of something of importance to her.

Lillie had once lost an arm and a leg.

Moon had lost her eyesight.

And with her eyes gone, it seems like she can't find him in the room. He hastily walks to the other side of the bed, grabbing a chair to sit by her. Moon tries to follow him with her eyes, but they always trail a bit too slowly.

It's a matter of not being quite spot on. Her meticulous and measured gazes are boiled down to dull eyes without aim.

"It's good to see you, Lieutenant," greets Ilima, closing the book. "I was reading Moon some history books. You just came in when I was about to finish chapter eleven."

The topic at hand surprises him, but it takes him little time to see volumes on top of volumes scattered around her room, all closed but crowded close to her bed. He cannot see a single pharmacy tome near her, which actually worries him for a second.

Moon seems to sense it in his silence, and she attempts to look at him. "If I want to become Führer, I need to work on it, don't I?" A breathy chuckle blows past her lips, but then she sighs and falls against the big pillows under her. "I just wish they would let me breathe for a second."

Ilima takes no offense from this and laughs at her eagerness. "You hired us to support you on your way to the throne, Ma'am. We just want to help."

Gladion can see it in the way she moves that she is fine with that, no matter how much she complains. It has happened with him in several instances, where he told her to do all her work and stop slacking off and no matter how much she shrieked to get her distraction back, she would never get mad at him.

His Colonel tends to be unnerving, but sitting here like she is, possibly in pain but paving her way up, he knows she will be an extraordinary Führer.

The other Lieutenant sighs and leaves the book on top of another stack. Moon's shoulders react to the noise. "I'm going to grab a coffee and stretch my legs. Sophocles must be waiting for me."

Ilima walks by the two and then motions at Molayne to follow him, which the latter agrees to after a few seconds of silent debating. When the door clicks closed, Lieutenant and Colonel are left alone after what seems like ages of battling and bloodshed.

The silence is not precisely welcome for her. In the utter darkness she has as a veil, Gladion is no more than a presence of subtle warmth. He smells like sanitizer and sweat, a scent she is getting too used to. Moon cannot wait to get out of there.

She wonders what he looks like, now. If the lethal wounds on his shoulder are gone, if the blood has been washed clean from his body. Maybe if she could see him, she would see it in his eyes, how he feels.

The Colonel cracks a small smile. "I'm sorry for the awkwardness. I'm still not used to… you know."

Being blind. Being in the dark. Her, the weasel of the Military who had everything under control, now unable to see what is going on around her.

"It's fine," he dismisses. She can't feel his hands on her bed, just an inch away from her stretched legs. "I just came for a quick visit. I reckon you need to rest for a while, right?"

Moon nods, and Gladion takes in her appearance from a close angle. Her hair is disheveled, almost greasy. A million band-aids spread throughout her face and body, covering the many cuts procured during the battle. There are faint dark rings under her eyes, contrasting with her pale skin.

True, she has always had fair skin, but now it's almost sickly. Clearly the current ordeal is taking a toll on her.

Aiming to be Führer while not being able to see the path you walk on cannot be easy.

Moon nods. "I'm happy to see you— well, er, to hear from you." A nervous, awkward smile. "Ah, I don't even know how to speak properly anymore."

"You never did, anyway, Colonel."

"Oh, shut up."

The Lieutenant expects her to laugh as he chuckles, but it's all reduced to another smile. It's just a physical curve of her chapped lips, but nothing like what he has seen her wear. Long gone are the wicked smirks, the toothly fox grins, and the devious smiles.

She looks a bit small, suddenly. Like she has been put in a place and she can't find her way out.

"Well, I guess you will have to help me a bit more from now on, Lieutenant. I'm a bit…" Gladion waits for her to complete the sentence. Her voice has dropped a few octaves, tasting the bitter words. "A bit _useless_ , now."

That's when the teacup shatters. Spills all the concealed pride he has held inside to not break down. The wording too familiar, words he has let out so often without ill intent yet she has now used in this very dire scenario.

He wonders if she always took his words seriously, or if maybe, she is just too sensitive about her current handicap to realize that she is _far_ from useless. Because even when blind, she had made dent after dent in the enemy's stamina.

And he doesn't want to admit that now that she is blind, she has also gained a lot of power.

"You…" His words tie a knot in his throat. "Are not useless, Ma'am."

Another chuckle, this time a bit more vibrant to make him believe it's real. "I know, I know." Her eyes turn from him to the window, which streams spring clear sunlight into the otherwise dark room. "I'm just being a big baby."

Her words are a little bit more lighthearted now, but her words from before have betrayed a far too sensitive topic for him to overlook it again.

Moon hears a distinct sigh from him, and her shoulders sink to deflate.

"I'm s—"

"I'm sorry, Colonel."

A sigh, this time more strained and long, heavier. She whips her head around as if she will get a glimpse of his face, but all she sees is endless pitch black and the noise of his body shaking on the stool he sits on.

Moon raises her hands in alarm. "Hey, what the hell are you apologizing for? You didn't—"

"Your current state is my fault, Ma'am." He mutters. By how he is speaking, she can tell his body is trembling. In fact, she can feel the shaking of his hands on her bed. "If I hadn't allowed myself to get caught, you wouldn't have been threatened like that. And you would still…"

The Colonel can't be surprised by his outburst, and in her state, she has no energy to fight him back with the usual play pretend aggressivity she exercises on her subordinates. "Lieutenant, none of this is your fault."

"I'm supposed to protect you on your way to the top. And I only served as bait for you. I failed at my mission."

Even if she cannot see it herself, she can feel her face contorting into surprise as she blinks in confusion.

Gladion, albeit rarely emotional, has many layers that Moon has had to thaw herself through over the years. He is not outspoken in how he feels or makes his pain and hurt physical with tears, but he is always a bit tenser and a bit more serious when wounded. He is always more guarded, more bitter.

The amount of emotion in his thin, gritty voice is alarming. Her hands shake as he continues speaking. "I wasn't of any help, in the end. You almost got killed because of me."

A pause stretches between them, making her think for a second that he has left the room because the eerie silence that follows his statement makes her surroundings feel empty.

" _Lieutenant_."

The foreign authority in her voice makes his body tense.

"You clearly lost too much blood and you aren't thinking straight at the moment," she sighs. "Even if you hadn't been there, they would have forced me to open the gate regardless. It's what happened. I was the one who wasn't able to defend herself."

Moon knows this is true and speaks with the tough reality of what had gone down. If anything, it's her fault she was immobilized by fear. She got herself caught in the net, not him.

"And you refused to let me open the Gate of Truth, even if it put your life in danger. You can be so rude and irresponsible sometimes, Lieutenant."

"If you expected me to let you go through what Lillie did, you must be insane, Ma'am."

"Lieutenant, if you hadn't signaled me there was help coming our way, I would have gone through with it." A gasp of surprise. The blanket is pulled towards him as he bunches the fabric in frustration. "If you expected me to let you die in front of me, you are the crazy one."

Can he say anything against that but gape? Can he say that she is insane for going that far when, if he could, he would do the same?

"You…" Moon's blank eyes flutter in his direction, the same fixation written in her subtle frown. "You are insane, Ma'am."

A pause, then she smirks at him with the same mischievous intention that drives him up the wall. "You still helped this insane woman during the fight. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you, Lieutenant."

"You're thanking me even when I pointed a gun at you?"

"I'm also thanking you for pointing it at me. Because we had an agreement and I almost went back on my promise." Her eyes sink to the blanket over her legs. "I almost hurt you again."

His gun had shaken right then. If she had gone on and proceeded to quench her thirst for revenge, he isn't sure he would have been able to shoot. Or if he would have been able to live with himself after the fact.

Not when he would have let her go astray to destruction. Not when he could have killed her. Any possibility is terrifying.

A soft touch on his jaw brings his face up to face her. Her fingertips caress his face, then rise to his eyebrows. A soft lopsided smile is curled on her pale expression. "Ah, you are frowning again. I thought I told you to smile more, Lieutenant."

" _You have a beautiful smile, after all."_

Her touch is gone right after that, and his shoulders fall with a sigh, tension beginning to leave his body. Gladion suddenly feels tired, so tired.

His body tips forward slightly and his forehead falls on her shoulder, unmoving. "Don't scare me like that again, Colonel. You're so reckless sometimes, you'll give me a heart attack one day."

Moon cannot see him in this eternal darkness, but she feels his warmth and his shaking body all the same, so vividly she can almost paint a picture of him in her head. Her hand rubs up and down his back soothingly.

"And you're so stupid sometimes." He can hear the smile in her voice. "I must have the most loyal Lieutenant on Earth, but please, keep yourself alive. We have a throne to sit on."

If that's all it takes for her to rest at ease, he can agree to it. With a small nod, he forces himself off her and gets up from the stool, and as he is about to excuse himself, saying that he has work to take care of, a knock interrupts his farewell.

An old man is at the door as Gladion opens it. Hala, with a hand in his pocket and something akin to hope peering from his small eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant." The aforementioned nods in acknowledgment and hears a small gasp from her, her mentor's name barely a whisper. "I have important news to discuss with the Colonel."

Gladion feels suddenly interested by this talk and any intentions to leave die in his heart as Hala takes out a small scarlet shard, the stone gleaming under the sunlight.

"If you want to be the Führer of Amestris," a smile, "I might have something to help you bring your eyesight back, Colonel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c'mon yall are you telling me Riza wouldn't feel bad for what happened with Roy that's BULLSHIT so we're not gonna do that in hur


	9. Flowers By The Million

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the fire in the candle is lost, what can one do to take it back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS AHEAD SPOILERS AHEAD SPOILERS AHEAD

Moon isn't quite sure how she arrived here. It wouldn't be a stretch to say she doesn't know where she is or why she is talking to this saleswoman in a corner of this poorly illuminated park.

Cars aren't passing by anymore, so it's safe to assume it's too late for her to be outside, tipsy after a pair of drinks at Hapu's bar. Work had reduced her to a ball of stress and grunted orders, things more agitated than ever in Central City.

Everything going for the worse ever since Moon discovered the Führer's secret. All at the cost of her Lieutenant's position, who had been promoted to the Führer's assistant.

But it feels like he is being held hostage so she doesn't play hooky.

And with that inability to do anything, Moon had just dragged herself to the bar for a drink. She isn't that much of a heavy drinker, but Hapu had insisted on paying for her drinks with hospitality that one would never find in Central.

Not after the Military brass had been shaken to its core, at least.

Seeing that the Lieutenant is no longer by her side, she finds herself lonely. Had Gladion been there with her, and maybe she wouldn't be like this now. This drunk.

In hindsight, maybe Moon wouldn't actually be drunk _at all_ if he had been by her side and not assisting the _fucking_ Führer.

Just the thought of how she had been played this bad makes her want to vomit. Perhaps it's just the vodka and coming for her stomach with a vengeance. In her state, she is no longer able to tell why she feels this distraught.

But she knows there is a void by her side every day. And that it might have been her fault that her Lieutenant has been legally kidnapped.

The florist before her snaps her fingers in front of the Colonel, who blinks in her drunken stupor. "Miss, what flowers would you like? I have as many as you wish in store."

Flowers. Right. Hapu had told her that if one is ever sorry, the best way to apologize is by sending flowers. And aside from her internal remorse for Gladion's situation, all of her unit had been spread all around Amestris and assigned to different cities.

The only one that remains by her side is Ilima, who is currently in his hometown after he had gotten into a pretty bad accident fighting one of the Homunculi.

An accident that she hadn't been able to prevent.

God, she is a disaster.

So she wants to send them all flowers. Or that's what her drunken persona wants, at least, and she is in no shape to fight her own emotional urges.

"What flowers do you have in store?" Her voice is a blurry slur, words pushed together unnaturally. She almost falls to her side. "I would like to have as many as possible. I need this to be a grand gesture."

The woman before her blinks, then smiles sweetly. "My, are you looking to apologize to somebody, it seems? You will make me a millionaire!"

Well, it's not like she wants to buy the whole store, if what this seller has classifies as a store. It's not much more than a carriage with boxes and lots of shelves close to Central's biggest garden. A very weird choice to locate one's store, in her opinion. But that doesn't matter.

"What flowers do you recommend?"

"Hmm." The woman turns around and eyes her flowers. There are a _lot_ of them, Moon realizes. Her precarious vision doesn't hinder the view of the flowers that seem to stretch into the park and beyond. "I have a few beauties in here that would make for great gifts."

"Beauties? Is that the name of the flowers?"

Seeing the florist laugh, she must think Moon is joking. Moon wishes she had asked that with less honesty to not look like a dumbass.

"Well, all my flowers are beautiful, that's for sure!" A finger to her chin, the florist looks around her storage. "I'm afraid I don't have any flowers that mean 'forgiving', but I guess any flower might work for your apology."

The Colonel deems this to be fair advice. She walks around the small place. The only thing illuminating their conversation are the lampposts from the street and the stars in the sky of Amestris.

An arrange of many bouquets catches her eye. Pointy flowers of yellowish colors, almost white, with stripes along the center of the petals and issuing a sweet scent. The color is reminiscent of a certain Lieutenant's hair.

"What about these?" she points at the flowers, all wrapped in delicate white fabric. "What are these?"

The florist's eyes brighten immediately. "Those are night gladiolus! A very fine kind of flowers, you must have a great taste for floral arrangements!"

_Oh, you have to be messing with me_ , she laments in a low voice, but still eyes the flowers with distinct interest. They shift a little with the night breeze, removing some redness off her intoxicated cheeks.

The flowers are fresh in her eyes. Maybe he will enjoy the pun.

"How much do they cost?"

The florist explains that they are a pretty rare species in Amestris and that they are a bit expensive. In fact, Moon must have chosen the most expensive arrange of the carriage, for the woman is vigorously recommending her to buy them for an elegant touch in her apology.

The haste in her voice leads her to the conclusion this woman must need the money really badly, so she recklessly fetches her wallet and hands her her credit card and some cash money.

"I'll take all the gladiolus you have in store, Miss!"

And that's how she ends up with her black car full of flowers, floral scent now shoving itself into her nostrils. As she drives down the road, all the windows open, head out with a bored expression of regret, the drunken lightheadedness is starting to wear off and the weight of her miscalculations makes her stress only worsen.

She is, indeed, useless without her Lieutenant. Or just more troublesome than she'd like to admit.

What the hell is she even going to do with the flowers anyway? Her subordinates are spread all around Amestris and she doesn't have their addresses, nor time to go give them to them. Not to mention that Gladion is far too busy and a bit too _being held hostage_ to consider giving him the flowers.

When Moon pulls the brakes on her car, she stops right by a telephone box. Had she been more rational and she wouldn't even dare to be alone in such a place after all that had happened, but she just needs to make a call.

The flowers spill down her car's door as it falls open. She dials a familiar number and waits patiently.

As soon as she hears his voice, Moon cracks a grin and leans against the phone's stand.

"Well, good evening Sir!" Her voice is a bit louder and it completely belies her current situation. "I'm your neighborhood florist with a lot of gifts to give!"

His stupor is obvious from the way he chokes with his words, probably surprised to hear her calling. _"The fuck— What are you talking about, Colonel?"_

There he goes, the same old wet blanket she came to know and has missed so much. Her voice neutralizes and she calms down. "Sorry about that. I just got a little bit… _tipsy_ and I ended up buying a car's worth of flowers."

A sigh from his end. The last time they saw each other, Gladion had sworn he was not angry at her in the slightest and that this situation was not her fault, but seeing how irritated he seems, she wonders how much truth those words held.

" _Ma'am…"_

"Would you make me a favor and take all of these from me? I don't really know what to do with them, so…"

Another sigh, but then, silence. A pause too long for her liking, considering she had expected him to maybe give her an earful, call her irresponsible, just say _anything_.

She does not want to think he does not feel entitled to do that anymore. It's too tense.

"Did something happen?"

His breath hitches by the speaker and she notices it immediately. More alarmingly, he does not respond right away.

And the Führer had promised her he would be safe as long as she behaved. If she discovers he has gone back in his promise, she'll set fire to the Military's headquarters.

"Is there anything wrong? You are awfully silent."

When he speaks again, it's just a drawl of his words and solemn seriousness. _"No, Ma'am. Everything is fine."_

Not convinced, she inhales. "Are you sure?"

" _Yes."_

After knowing him for so long, it feels like he is hiding something from her. Gladion's voice is too stale, even for his standards.

He speaks soon afterward. _"And I'm sorry to inform you that I don't even own a flower vase. Sorry, I can't help. Thanks for thinking of me, though."_

She nods and hums, but the frown is still present as she focuses all her drunken energy in analyzing his voice. Too succinct, too quiet. There is too much silence around him. Too much tension.

But she cannot pry. Even if she wants to desperately ask and find out, the fist-tight grip the Military has on him prevents her from asking any further. For his sake. And much to her temper's chagrin.

"Don't worry about it, I guess I'll give them to the Major. Or maybe leave them on the graveyard." _Damn it_ that is not a zone her mind can wander into, so she fights the thoughts with all her might. "Take care of yourself, Lieutenant."

" _I will, Ma'am. Have a good night, bye."_

And the line goes dead, leaving Moon with the phone on her hand and staring at it with the conviction that something has happened.

Something she can't quite get a grab on.

Sighing, she leaves the phone on its base and takes to her car again. The floral smell wafts around her and nauseates her further, but she can't get herself to drive and just thinks of where to go, head on the steering wheel.

The Colonel closes the door, a few flowers falling to the pavement and the road.

The gear comes to life and she drives once more.

Time to give her good old friend Sun a visit and think about her next step to get her Lieutenant back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved how I wrote this but yikes man I hate how it ended in the original thus I hate how it ends here lmao


	10. The King of the Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of chess goes awry when one of the best matchmakers in Amestris asks Moon the one and only question that should never be asked about her dear Lieutenant Gladion.

"You will be transferring to Central City tomorrow, right?"

A nod. "Yes, Ma'am."

The woman sitting before her hovers her hand over the board, then moves her rook with a smile. "I see. I will miss seeing you around, Colonel. You're one of the few who I can play chess with."

Colonel Moon looks up. Commanding Officer Wicke is a gentle woman of short stature, bright eyes, and messy hair. A pair of immaculate glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, wide pink frames around the glass. The bright eyes behind them shine with kindness and patient demeanor.

That armor cracks as soon as Moon moves her bishop. Wicke's eyebrow quivers in surprise, then presses her elbow on the arm of her chair, thoughtful.

"Well, things have been hectic in Central, so it's only natural that I'll be transferred there."

Wicke smiles at the girl, a hint of playful suspicion in the gesture. "Oh, Colonel, please. You're acting as if it was a chore and you weren't delighted."

Can she really deny she is? All the investigations she has been leading had been cut short after the happenings from last week; more specifically, Lieutenant Sun's death. Her promotion to Central seems like a blessing, and she can't wait to dig her hands into the Military's thorny batter.

Seeing recent reports, however, it seems like she might be the one getting bitten by all this corruption. But Moon is one to be more optimistic than realistic, all with a pinch of recklessness.

Wicke moves her piece, hands falling on her lap. "It's a shame, though. Such capable Colonel being taken away from me? I'm obviously concerned." She watches Moon survey the game, a finger under her chin. "You always brighten things up around here."

The Colonel looks up at the sincerity in her voice. While Wicke is easily the most easy-going of her superiors, it's still uncanny how much warmth she radiates. It's a sight for sore eyes, a little candlelight in the headquarters of East City.

The contrast might be starker due to the fact that she is Gladion's aunt— or godmother, she is not sure. All she knows is that Wicke had one time revealed that she had played chess with Gladion plenty of times when he was a kid.

There is a small framed photograph of Wicke with Gladion and a kid she can only assume is her son on her desk, and she always speaks of the man very fondly.

Gladion had told her a few times that he has no family in the Military, and Moon chalks up his memory loss to his rocky upbringing. He barely remembers anybody in his family, and Wicke had gone as far as to say that it's better this way.

And so her possible blood relation to Gladion is still a secret.

The girl's eyes focus on the board, then smirk at the slip Wicke had made. Her hand decisively grabs her king piece and slams it on a position that leaves her superior speechless.

"Checkmate!"

The Command Officer's hands quiver as Moon snickers and takes this as her win. After 94 games — she keeps track of them like the salty player she is — it almost feels special that she has only won the last day she will be working under Wicke.

The woman pulls her glasses further up her nose. "Well, it's high time you won a game. I was starting to think I had to teach you how to play again!"

The girl's grip on the board's box tightens, eyebrow quivering. "You're just angry I won this time, Ma'am." The subtle irritation is buried by an immediate smile. "Thank you for playing with me one last time, though. Winning feels like a gift now."

The pieces fall in the box as Moon tidies the table up. Wicke sighs, almost a hum of satisfaction leaving her lips. It seems like a very clean way to finish things off.

She gets up from the table and walks to her desk, to the window behind it. Moon has just left the board's box on the table and is about to leave when her superior clears her throat, making Moon stop in her tracks.

As far as she knows, nobody in the Military has a grand way of saying goodbye to their bosses. No farewell parties, grand gestures of camaraderie or tears. Everyone is well aware that the Military changes its brass with the flick of two fingers— and it happens too often for people to get used to their comrades.

Except Moon, considering she has a fixed unit of people around her. Especially her Lieutenant.

So Moon wonders why Wicke is holding her back.

"What is it, Ma'am?"

The Commander has her arms crossed as she looks at the building's patio. There is still plenty sunlight outside yet the curtains are half close, giving the room a bit of privacy.

When Wicke looks back at her subordinate, a coy but sweet smirk stretches her features. "You said this last game has been like a gift, correct?"

"Yes."

"Well, then I wonder if you could make me a favor," Moon takes a step closer to her superior, standing before the desk, "and finally ask my nephew to marry you?"

One would expect her to be surprised by this request, but it's not new at all. Wicke has asked her to marry him at least a thousand times, not to mention those where they had gone out for a drink and Wicke just liked to hypothesize what their wedding would look like.

Wicke has always been very lightweight. Admittedly, so is Moon.

The girl blinks at the blunt and meaningful request as if she had never given it any thought. "Bold of you to assume I should be the one getting on one knee. Isn't it the man who does these things anyway?"

"Oh, Colonel. We all know you're well over those petty stereotypes." She is, leaving her with no argument at all. "You could give this old woman a parting present and buy him a ring. I'm not sure what kind of jewelry he likes, though."

Moon is pretty sure he has a knack for certain types of accessories. He has these stupid piercings on his ear and he has necklaces in little chests at his apartment, all which she had found by sneaking around his place while he made them lunch.

But saying that would prove Wicke's point about marriage further, so she bites her tongue. "You sure have very odd requests, Ma'am."

"Well, it only makes sense that I want my nephew to marry the future Führer of Amestris. You two have been together for a long time, haven't you?"

They _have_ , but not in _that_ sense. They had been together in ways that never trespass the platonic, mostly out of respect, utter loyalty to one another and the rampant anti-fraternization laws that made Wicke's wish impossible to begin with.

But Moon doesn't like to think about things she cannot control, so she has left her thoughts on her Lieutenant to the side, for all she needs from him is her back being watched and protected.

Nothing else, nothing more.

"Well, we have, but I'm afraid you are mistaken, Ma'am."

Wicke's sultry and funny smile proves she can see well beyond whatever Moon says. "You could still make him your husband. Doesn't it sound great? _First Gentleman Gladion_."

The Colonel shakes her head with a warm smile, sighing as she turns from her chief. "Don't think too far ahead, Ma'am. There are still many things to do before I can snatch the position."

"Mhm." Moon hears Wicke sit on her comfy chair, elbows loudly hitting the desk as she shoots her a smirk. "Make sure you say yes when he does it, at least. Give this old woman a little gift too."

As much as the Colonel wants to say that Wicke is not that old to be called _old_ as in ancient, she doesn't want the tease to go any further. The girl chuckles and waves her goodbye wordlessly, making Wicke deem her silence an acceptance of such fate.

But Moon knows it won't happen. It has never been in her mind to get married no matter the many times Wicke has brought it up. She is dedicated to her job and her ambitions, and she wants to think that he also has such dedication for his job.

Gladion is the most serious and pigheaded guy she has ever met. There is no way he will get married.

Not because he can't. But because he most likely is just as dedicated as she is.

It's all about dedication. She absolutely can't voice her feelings to him. Hiding it all has always come so naturally that the suggestion of putting it to the light is outrageous to her.

As Moon closes the double doors of Wicke's office, she supports her weight on it and darts her eyes from side to side.

How could that woman even _suggest_ marrying her dear Lieutenant and put her in that position?

Lips pursed, stomach tight, Moon decides that she needs a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> this is actually canon. I know. Shocking. But it IS VYGUHFJIPDSLÀ
> 
> (also sorry I sometimes post late I just moved into my apartment and me writing all the time barely lets time for me to do the writing thing tango mango shalala)


	11. Like Brother, Like Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know as well as I do you are utterly useless on rainy days, please just stay back!"
> 
> That's how a small, nagging issue began.

There rarely is any rain in Amestris. It sometimes rains hard at the north, mostly in the form of snow. The other areas are very dry, and Central City is no exception.

So when Colonel Moon's unit is warned about a criminal on the loose in the city, Gladion's first thought is that nothing can go well under this gloomy weather. When they take to the streets, it's early in the afternoon. The clouds are so heavy it feels like midnight.

The criminal in question has been running along the streets with staggering speed. His skin is pale and his hair is like silver, reflecting the light of the slick lampposts littered across the pavement.

The scene they come to is grotesque to say the least. A girl with blond hair and blue and white clothes is lying on the ground, her automail arm and leg broken to pieces. The armor companion she always has around is nowhere to be found, and as they finally exit their cars, the criminal is about to use his lethal alchemy on the limp girl's head.

Before he can touch her, a bullet pierces the heavy rain and takes to the sky.

Moon's gun is lowered. Her unit stands around and behind her, shotguns loaded to take this dangerous criminal down. She has seen his alchemy in several crime scenes, holes of destruction left on the walls of the streets at his wake.

Seeing Lillie's automail shattered like that, it's only further proof that this is, indeed, the most wanted criminal of Amestris at the moment.

Scar, the man with the mark across his eyes.

"Well well, we finally have you cornered, old man," she taunts, pointing her gun at him. "Don't touch a hair of the Fullmetal Alchemist girl. You have done far enough pain to our Alchemist roster."

Scar seems almost amused at her words. Gladion eyes his chief and her enemy. He is way taller than her, much more muscular and overall terrifying. She still looks at him with this fierce bravery of hers that brings him to almost groan.

She will end up getting herself in trouble again. He can sense it.

"I'm taking you into custody for being behind a string of State Alchemists' murders. We have taken a while to catch you, but you'll be spending a long time in jail for your killings… Scar."

The nickname is fitting but undoubtedly unprofessional. Part of her wishes she knew his real name, but it doesn't seem like he will stick around for that long, as he seems ready to flee.

Lillie's body under him and his hand, he looks at the convoy. His eyes are well hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. "You alchemists are at fault for the suffering of my people. God's wrath will fall on you for your evil doings, and if you don't stop your activity, then I shall be the one to eliminate you!"

Despite the menacing words that leave his mouth, Moon is unfazed. Ramblings of a crazed criminal, that's what it is. A cocky chuckle tumbles down her lips and she hands her gun to her Lieutenant, who is behind her.

"Interesting, what you say." Moon tugs at her ignition gloves. "I would like to see what your God can do against us."

Gladion looks from her gun to her, alarmed by her reckless attitude. "Colonel Moon! What are you doing?"

Scar watches her walk slowly. He mouths her name, recognizing her rank and powers. Moon is a well-known powerhouse of Amestris' Military, so it's safe to assume she will be troublesome to deal with.

His hands ball into fists. "To think you would come forward on your own to face judgment in a day like this." Scar pulls away from Lillie and starts rushing towards Moon. "What a great day this shall be!"

Moon's step quickens, adjusting her gloves for the battle. "So you know my name and you still wanna challenge me?" Running steps behind her. "What a reckless man you are!"

Just as Scar is reaching her, Moon readies her fingers to create flames, snaps them, and much to her shock, nothing comes out. She has no time to panic about Scar launching his attack on her, for something hits her feet to make her fall down, conveniently avoiding Scar's hand.

As her back hits the ground, Lieutenant Gladion is shooting Scar away from the scene, causing the criminal to hop back and behind a corner to an alley.

The Colonel glares at her subordinate indignantly. "What the hell was that for, Lieutenant!?"

He charges one of his guns without sparing her a glance. "You know as well as I do you are utterly useless on rainy days, please just stay back!"

The word _useless_ makes her groan at the jab, just as Lieutenant Ilima rises a hand in wonder. "Yikes, that's right. Can't even light a spark in this gloomy weather, huh?"

Sadly for her, Moon cannot fight this statement. Her ignition gloves cannot function when wet, and in their rush to chase Scar down, she had forgotten to bring her suitcase with other pairs. Not like it mattered, considering they would get wet anyway.

Scar is quickly recovering from the bullet attack and surveying his surroundings. "It's great you cannot fight now, Colonel Moon. At least I can bring justice on you faster!"

" _What's this justice you talk about_?"

An iron fist appears right behind the criminal, startling Scar and making him leap further away from Lillie and the armor. Major Kukui appears from under the dust that clears, his alchemy iron gauntlet gleaming under the lamplight.

This distraction gives Ilima enough time to rush to Lillie's side, who is crawling away from the battlefield with labored breath and is having her wounds attended.

"Who are you?" asks Scar.

"You avoided my attack! Not bad at all, Sir!" he exclaims loudly, "If you want to bring judgment, maybe you can start by me! The Strong Arm of the Military, Kukui!"

The name is not as familiar to the bandit, but his alchemy tricks are dangerous enough for him to be on guard. A big hole is left right where Kukui had punched. One wouldn't want to be in that fist's trajectory.

"Where do you all keep coming from? It's one after the other!" he mutters to himself. "Could this be… a sign from God?"

The big soldier is surprised. He doesn't seem appalled at all by his show. No matter how scummy this criminal is, he seems brave. "You won't give up, then?" Kukui grabs a piece of debris with ease. "Then I'll show you what my alchemy is about!"

At the sidelines, Gladion has knelt on the ground, shotgun loaded and eye peeping in to aim as carefully as possible. "If possible, we want him alive, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Ma'am," he responds, focus completely on the objective as it keeps jumping around to avoid Kukui's fists.

"Also," Moon crosses her arms, pouting. "Don't call me useless again."

"I refuse, Ma'am." She grunts at his sharp response, but then, Gladion murmurs a small curse and presses his finger on the trigger.

The bullet zips past the scene, then strikes right by Scar's temple and hits his sunglasses, making them tilt and fall to the ground. Kukui pushes back and his eyes widen at what he sees, but Moon can't reach to see the damage just yet.

"Did you hit him?" she asks, hopeful but also disbelieving of Gladion's insane aim. As capable as he is, she doubts he has hit him at this distance.

The Lieutenant lowers his snipe. "I don't think so. I can't see that well under all this soggy weather."

And nor can she, but Scar seems confused by the noise and the wound and begins to step forward, clutching his temple and forehead. When he opens his eyes, however, a startling revelation comes to light and knocks all air out of Moon's lungs.

Kukui voices her thoughts after a solid minute of silence. "Red eyes… you are an Ishvalan!"

Of course. A resident from the town State Alchemists had ransacked and destroyed all those years ago. A man no doubt filled with revenge for the Military. It all made too much sense now.

To think that there were people still bitter about the issue when it had happened at least a decade ago, however, didn't put Moon at ease, and she knows Gladion must be just as concerned. Scar must be full of immeasurable rage to commit many crimes.

And to think he almost got the Fullmetal Alchemist… Lillie hadn't even fought in the Ishvalan War. Why is she being targeted? Is it because she is a very able alchemist? Could it be because of the sin she committed that brought her so much power?

Seeing himself cornered, Scar decides that the only way to make it out alive is by fleeing, and that's what he does. A hand to the ground, the air cackles before exploding around the criminal, and when the dust clears, there's a big hole in the pavement, revealing his route of escape.

Moon decides to walk closer and shakes her head. "Of course, the sewers." The Colonel beckons at Ilima as her Lieutenant walks close. "Lieutenant Ilima, have this zone surveyed tonight. We can't let Scar escape."

As the man retreats to comply, Moon watches Lillie approach her companion armor as they start an argument. Her hair is long and platinum blond, so bright it could blind her. Even in the darkness of the storm, she still shines as she throws screams at the talking armor. Her arm and leg are destroyed and she is not one to scream this loud, but both seem furious.

The first day Moon had seen her in that little house at the north, her first thought had been that she was Gladion's sister, something he flat out denied. As he had said many times before, he has no family in the military, and he doesn't recall having a sister. No matter how uncanny the resemblance is.

Lillie is always seen with her armor friend, who she claimed to be a brother she had tried to recover through alchemy. Lillie had not only attempted Human Transmutation to bring her mother from the dead, but also her brother.

That girl is terribly naïve, but also resilient like very few.

And very similar to Gladion, dead siblings aside. As her and the Lieutenant walk closer to the bickering siblings, Moon arches an eyebrow at her subordinate, then back to the girl.

Lillie must be in her early twenties, but she still throws a tantrum like a child of 5 years old. It's totally opposite to Gladion's behavior, but still…

The Lieutenant turns his eyes to his commander in askance, and after holding his gaze for a short second, Moon withdraws her eyes.

It can't be.

It just can't be. It'd be too much of a coincidence.

"Anything wrong, Ma'am?"

Because if this coincidence were to be true, she would definitely lose her mind.

Moon dismisses his concerns. "Absolutely not, Lieutenant."

And as a few people from her unit and the Lieutenant calm the girl down and Moon observes the scene, she thinks there is something terribly off-putting about that armor.

But that's a topic for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while I thought I would write more plot, and tamper with the 'FMAB but I kinda changed it' parts but then I never really dived into it but I wrote it so have this I guess enJOY


	12. The Jewel Of A Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon might have many men eating from her hand but there is only one she would ever allow to nibble on her fingers.
> 
> And that man happens to be wearing very fancy clothes for a very fancy party, and she is definitely, absolutely and irrevocably good at dancing.

Moon is not cut out for dancing. It's the first thing she told Major Kukui when he invited her to this stupid gala some days ago, saying that 'it's a great opportunity to socialize with the higher brass of Central City!'.

At this, Moon had scoffed very loudly and said it was not of her interest. But then Kukui mentioned something along the lines of 'there will be lots of rich people to talk to and pretty boys to dance with'.

Of course, that sold her immediately. It's all a matter of having a way with words.

Now, Moon has a bit of a man-eater fame, a womanizer in a woman's pants. Everyone constantly looks out for their significant others being left close to Moon's soft words and tilted compliments, always a bit sweeter than intended for a feather touch.

But the Colonel is not that much of a predator as much as she has fun at their reactions' expense. Moon has a way to socialize with people, and she enjoys herself greatly when somebody is embarrassed over a genuine compliment. She is shameless, but not a _bad_ shameless.

The notoriety that follows her to parties does hinder her enjoyment greatly, however, and most usually, she finds herself without people to dance with, hence her lack of experience with these parties.

And thus here she is.

Alone by a table full of drinks, clad in her favorite deep blue dress with nothing but a little frown to keep her company.

"My, seems like our Colonel is keeping to herself tonight." Moon arches an eyebrow, cup in her hand as Second Lieutenant Ilima walks to her. "Did the weasel of the Military finally get her tongue cut?"

The tease has no malice, but she rolls her eyes regardless. "Shut up, Lieutenant. I see you have nobody to dance with either."

Ilima shares a gentle laugh with her. That man is very meticulous and dangerous in the battlefield, but when it comes to friends and meetings like these, he's just smooth. It's a very rare balance she enjoys greatly, mostly because they end up drinking the night away in parties like these.

Those are nights she remembers very fondly.

Moon surveys the crowd a few feet from her. The big marble and golden room is crowded with people dressed in exaggerated dresses, everything too fluffy for what Amestris really is. She would say she hates it if she wasn't in a dress nearly as extravagant as theirs.

Ilima, however, seems to find it cute. "You look pretty nice this evening, Colonel. What a shame nobody wants to come to the dance tonight."

"They probably have their significant others to dance with. I don't blame them, really." Her sigh is of fake disappointment. It's not like she knows how to dance anyway. "I guess I will have you around for a while to keep good ol' Moon company?"

Surprisingly, the man shakes his head. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. I'm actually here in search of a certain someone I lost sight of a bit ago."

Of course, they had to take him as well. Her expression sinks into a pout, but she offers her help regardless. "I'm guessing it's Second Lieutenant Mina you're looking for? I talked to her a bit ago."

"Well, ever since she was discharged from looking after Miss Lillie, she has had a lot of free time, so I invited her to the party," he explains, to which Moon nods as she takes a sip of her drink. "She probably got distracted with the paintings in the hallway."

Light laughter erupts from her. "That's a fair assumption. I would go look for her, then." A wink. "Some bad man might snatch her from you for the rest of the evening if you stay here."

Ilima's head tilts. "I thought you would want some company, Colonel."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lieutenant. I'll survive." Moon waves him off with a small smirk. "I can tell you're itching to go dance with her."

The man stares at her for a short pause, then nods with all gratitude he has in him, walking into the crowd quickly to find his girl. Moon giggles into her glass, leaning against the cold marble wall of the dance room.

She hopes he will have a good time. Knowing Mina, she will spilling the details of her night around the Military in due time, and she can't wait to hear what Ilima will do when he gets impossibly drunk.

At least that's something to look forward to tomorrow.

"I didn't think you would be alone so late into the event, Ma'am."

Her eyes widen momentarily, then turn to her faithful Lieutenant as he walks to her. Clad in a black suit with a golden tie, he looks all sorts of uncomfortable in that fancy dressing, fidgeting with his tie.

The word _Lieutenant_ is always different when it comes to Gladion, somehow. All of them are equally qualified as him — even if he is much more apt in a conventional soldier standard — but whenever she calls him by his rank, it's a bit warmer. Relief.

As if seeing him by her side is still a miracle after so many years of camaraderie.

So when he is close enough, she sticks to her everlasting soft tone. "Lieutenant. Never thought I would see you here."

"Well, Major Kukui told me that last time you got very drunk and fell down at least three times whilst going to Lieutenant Ilima's car."

"That's a blatant exaggeration," she huffs, looking to her side. "I was wearing high heels and I was tired. The Major is just a fan of exaggerating events like those."

"All things considered, I'm more inclined to believe his side of the story, Ma'am."

She wants to deny his claim before the episode with the flowers in her car comes to mind. It was just a blur of images but she had put the pieces together the following day when she stumbled with a very… _decorated_ car, if those flowers could be used for anything other than that.

Moon drums her fingers against her crossed arm. "I'm guessing Major Kukui summoned you here to make sure I behave?"

The Lieutenant shakes his head. "Not at all, Ma'am. I came here from my own volition." This greatly surprises her, lips parting and eyeing Gladion as he fidgets with his sleeves. "I didn't want you to ruin your already foul reputation any further. So I decided to check this party out."

There he goes again, stabbing her with the most earnest of jabs. Judging by the subtle flat smirk tugging at his lips, he is proud of it too. The Colonel grits her teeth. "Always so professional, Lieutenant."

"I'm truthfully surprised to see you alone and not dancing though, Colonel." All smugness is washed away by a look that shows concern, snapping her out of her fake irritation. "Did you break one of your heels on your way here?"

Her mood is getting more and more sour the more people come to her and ask why she is alone. Her expression becomes a grimace of distaste. "People are busy tonight. And Ilima's not here to keep me company either, so I was thinking of going home or to some bar downtown."

"You know that won't do, Ma'am," he states. "Major Kukui will very likely come talk to you at some point. And you know how he is with these things."

Oh, she knows. Kukui is a horribly nice man during work hours, but he tends to really obsess over everyone being okay during any event he organizes. He would be very upset to know Moon had left the event alone and sad.

Which wouldn't happen because she is _not_ sad over being lonely when everyone is dancing. But the Major would interpret it that way.

The Colonel sighs and leaves her empty glass on the table. "I'll stay around for a little longer, maybe. Maybe Mallow will accidentally tear some girl's dress again and I'll laugh for a while about it."

Gladion's eyes flicker to hers. "You are absolutely terrible, Ma'am." But the lack of bite to the punch reveals he didn't mean it in a bad way. He sounds almost amused.

"Can't help myself. Today was also a very long day, so…" She lets the sentence trail off, then looks at her Lieutenant. He isn't looking at anything in particular: no anxious gazes to the crowd in search of a partner. "Won't you dance with anybody?"

As expected, he shakes his head. "I'm not particularly interested in dancing. And nobody in the crowd has really caught my eye either."

Teasingly, Moon scoots closer to him and follows his eyes. She can see many pretty girls stumbling through the dancefloor with or without a partner, which makes her grin deviously. "Oh, come on, Lieutenant. Aren't you interested in any of them?"

The blond regards his superior briefly, then clears his throat. "Not really."

His words a bit drier than usual, making her think something is up. She chalks it up to her bubbling intoxication, though. "Really? Nobody?"

He shakes his head once more. It doesn't surprise her that he has come to a dance gala without the intention of dancing, somehow. As professional as he is, she sometimes wishes she would see him having fun. She simply can't believe he got so dressed up and doesn't want to dance.

Because he looks… handsome, tonight. Not like he is not handsome at work — because he _is_ , Moon has that very clear — but tonight he looks almost charming. Surely any girl would want to dance with him.

"C'mon, Lieutenant." Moon complains softly, hand on his shoulder as she tiptoes to speak clearly to him, close to his ear. "If you want to dance, you need to pick someone you want to be with and just, you know, dance. No need to be shy."

She rarely allows herself to be this close to him outside of work, but she doesn't regret the close contact they share for that minute it takes for her to talk.

When Moon lowers herself to her level again, his head is tilted and his eyes bore into hers intensely. "What gave you the idea that I actually want to dance, Ma'am?"

"You just don't look like you came here for duty, Lieutenant," she simply says, grinning. "And that fancy tie doesn't lie."

A pause stretches between them, only filled with the soft classical music that seems to overlap with the chatter of the crowd.

Suddenly resolute, Gladion nods. "I see. I guess you have a point, Ma'am."

"Of course I do!" A smug smirk stretches her lips. "Now you go and get yourself a partner, Lieutenant. It's an order from your superior."

Beside her, he nods and seems ready to comply. Moon closes her eyes in satisfaction, very pleased that he has caved in and will give in to the inhibitions his rank had bestowed on him.

However, she is greatly surprised to open her eyes and see him offering _her_ his hand, his other on his neck. "Then you must dance with me, Colonel."

Moon has absolutely no answer to that and freezes on the spot. The way his subordinate is gazing into her eyes is a tidbit softer than usual, just enough to make her believe he has a genuine interest in dancing with her.

Which is _not_ bad. Not at all.

If it weren't for the fact that nobody has ever looked at her like that and that she has two left feet when it comes to dancing. As much as Moon likes to tease people so they go dance, she is not much of a dancer herself.

Disappointing a stranger with her faux gala confidence is not the same as disappointing her Lieutenant.

Her words come in spurts of surprise. "Me? But there are many ladies out there, Lieutenant."

He arches an eyebrow. The softness still remains. "But I'm asking you to dance, Ma'am. It's you I want to dance with." Moon holds her breath, genuine surprise and a very dim blush in her expression. "That is, if you will allow me."

He is so stupid sometimes, thinking she can deny him when he is looking at her like that and she would love to dance with him. She is just… a bit self-conscious about her tempo and the way her feet just like to step on others. All the grace she has on the battlefield is lost when it comes to waltzing.

As much as Moon likes to joke about using those useless people in the Military as stepping stones, she doesn't want to take that analogy to the dancefloor.

Smiling softly, Moon steps forward and places her hand on Gladion's warm palm. "It would be a pleasure, Lieutenant." He nods in response and his fingers wrap around hers securely. "Never thought you would have the audacity to ask your commander to dance, though."

A gentle squeeze of his hand around hers. "I'm afraid said commander asked me to find a partner. And I cannot disobey my Colonel, can I?"

"Of course not." Her fingers squeeze his hand back with just as much softness as he guides them to the dancefloor. "But putting your personal life and professional life together like this? I would say that's very unusual, Lieutenant."

He stops them at a place where they are buried by other couples slowly dancing around them, all of them strangers. People who won't judge or tease them about the intimacy that is about to ensue.

His free hand falls to her hip, just as hers clasps his shoulder softly. "There's no way to keep professional and personal life apart when it comes to you, Colonel."

A warm feeling falls down her body and fills her with something she cannot explain, happy to be by his side like this. During the many times he mocks her and she teases him, there is little to no room to express the fondness they feel for each other.

She can't be any happier she has exercised her authority for something as great as this, being so close and so at ease with each other.

Other than the fact that she cannot mess this up or he will pin it on her for the rest of her life.

Hesitantly, Moon looks down at her feet, panic showing on her features and the way her hand tightens on his shoulder. The Lieutenant catches on immediately.

"I can't believe the Flame Alchemist of Amestris is so shy about dancing when she tricked me into it." It's, again, all bark and no bite. As he chuckles, Moon puffs her cheeks and frowns at his comment. "No wonder you were so lonely earlier, Ma'am."

"Everyone has their weaknesses, Lieutenant." Her eyes soften and dig into his, so crystalline and so clear as he glides them around the dancefloor with unforeseen ease. His hand is warm on the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. "I'm far from perfect."

"Trust me I know, Ma'am." He is serious now, but he means no harm, if how he caresses her hand with his thumb proves that point. "You're impossible. And insufferable."

Moon, as always, takes the comment with a grain of salt and lets him guide them around. His modals just as flawless as ever, never breaking eye contact with her as if he was whispering a thousand messages to her in the intimacy of the unbearable crowd.

Only one thought makes it out of his mouth. "You look beautiful tonight, Moon."

A chuckle, ignoring the teasing full name that he whispers under his breath so only she would hear.

Leaning to press her nose against the crook of his neck, she lets him dance the night away softly, letting the weasel be serenaded for just one night.

"Just as you look dashing, Gladion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soft
> 
> and I love them


	13. To Hell, If You So Desire | Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What will you do then, Colonel? Your dear man is going to bleed to death if you don't act soon." Then, he rummages through the inner pockets of his dirty lab coat. "But I happen to be a doctor, and I can cure him with alchemy, and…" he takes out a little container with dancing red liquid, too familiar for her to not hold her breath. "I have a Philosopher's Stone right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS SPOILERS SPOILY SPOILY SPOILERS

This, Moon ponders with short breathing, is not how she had planned the operation to go.

A quiet meeting underground to take over Central's headquarters and seize control. Now that the Führer Mohn had been eliminated and wiped out of the map, they had been free to navigate Amestris and find the headquarters of the Homunculi and this figure they addressed as Mother— the chaos harbinger with a plan so twisted it's still hard for her to comprehend.

Nothing makes sense. The Führer? A Homunculi. That Homunculi? Gladion's father, turned into a monster by this twisted villain. This villain, Mother, wanting to claim all souls of Amestris to achieve absolute power and reach God, then overthrow said deity.

Her, Lieutenant Gladion, Mallow, Sophocles and few more had grouped up in secret to infiltrate the tunnels under the city. The entrance had been hidden behind a door in one of the laboratories of the city.

Laboratories created with the sole purpose of crafting Philosopher Stones.

Stones created with human lives. Plenty of them.

Bloodshed generated the stones. Lillie had been chasing after that damned element for her whole life to get her armor brother and limbs back. Their goals are not as clear anymore, Moon knows.

At first, the operation had been easy. Go through some tunnels, dodge some feisty monsters.

But then came the fight. A fight with humanoids fused with Philosopher Stones, so quick and strong they had managed to seize their convoy completely and gain control over the situation.

Thus, this is not how Moon pictured things to end.

Not with her seized by the arms by some humanoids, watching how a wicked doctor spoke of sacrifices for an ultimate plan, an ultimate stone—

"We need a fifth sacrifice. And we're running out of time, Colonel," speaks the doctor, looking at her from the distance in cold dispassion. "I would make a decision soon. We don't have much time left."

A guttural noise of stubbornness leaves her mouth, teeth clenched. "I refuse! I will never give in to your plans, you monster!"

It's as if the clock has stopped, suddenly, everything goes silent in what Moon fails to see as contemplation.

The doctor shifts his glasses. "I told you we're running out of time, Colonel."

The gross noise of a blade meeting soft flesh fills her ears somewhere to her right.

And what she had never expected, she realizes in absolute horror, was for a blade to pierce right through her Lieutenant's throat, his expression turning confused and pained. His green eyes open wide in dread, blood spraying out of the wound as her subordinate falls to the ground, motionless.

The girl _thrashes_ , her whole body shaking as she tries to get him to no avail. "Lieutenant! Answer me, Lieutenant!" Her body suddenly feels heavy, something burning and throbbing in her heart as the blood, _his_ blood soaks the tiles and taints her sight in red.

Gladion doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch or respond to her desperate calls, and is instead dragged before her, right above an alchemy circle she cannot understand. The doctor puts his arms behind his back as the girl tries to free herself to get to her subordinate.

"What the hell have you done!?" Moon screams, her subordinates watching her lose all control as the _only_ person people can't touch is almost murdered in front of her. Somewhere she cannot control. "Leave him alone! This is not his business!"

"Oh, but it _is_ , considering he is your dear Lieutenant, isn't that right?" Moon's expression falls into one of absolute terror, paling on sight. Her eyes widen and her irises tremble, breath staggering within her throat.

She should have known he would be in danger the first minute he joined her side, all those years ago.

She should have stopped him.

Because she cannot lose him. Not _him_.

"It would be a shame if your dear one right here lost his life just because you're scared of a measly alchemical procedure, right?" The doctor looks down at the bleeding guy, who still isn't answering. Not even when she calls him in a low voice, silently praying he is still alive.

Moon grits her teeth even harder. "Human Transmutation is not a _measly procedure_!"

"But you still stick to your beliefs as if your beloved wasn't on the line, eh? And he has gone so very silent now..." He grins at the lovely sight of the amount of blood pooling around the man. "Oh, maybe you want to transmute him when he dies? That's fine, too."

Because as long as she commits that sin, everything will be fine for them. They just need somebody else to open the Gate of Truth. They need another worthy one for their wicked scheme.

"I won't die."

A cough, a trembling voice. Moon looks down with a shudder to see her comrade clutching his neck, shaking from head to toe as her sight blurs with increasing fury.

"You see," he speaks in a very low and weak voice, almost smirking. "I'm… under orders not to die. And I cannot… disobey my Colonel."

Her head sinks to a frustrated downcast growl, feeling useless and so small, unable to save her dearest ones when they are bleeding to death in front of her. He is so stubborn and so damn stupid…

But God wouldn't she be dead if it weren't for him.

The doctor crouches before him, inspecting the damage with his everlasting fake smile. "You have a very interesting body. If everyone had such strength, we would run out of business, you see."

The man then turns to the Colonel, who waits with trembling fury for ideas to come to her. For her gloves to sow themselves together, for God to appear from the sky and fix this problem because she is at a dead end.

Glaring at the man with all she has is all she can do, and it's not working.

Gladion keeps on bleeding and she keeps on waiting.

"What will you do then, Colonel? Your dear man is going to bleed to death if you don't act soon." Then, he rummages through the inner pockets of his dirty lab coat. "But I happen to be a doctor, and I can cure him with alchemy, and…" he takes out a little container with dancing red liquid, too familiar for her to not hold her breath. "I have a Philosopher's Stone right here."

The idea is tempting, _too_ tempting. Her moral backbone and integrity are stopping to matter at this point. Would it be that bad if she sacrificed a limb or two so Gladion got to see the sun again?

What sort of Colonel would she be if she _didn't_ go through with it, even if it entailed committing the ultimate sin of alchemy?

The sin of trying to resuscitate the dead, of reaching ultimate knowledge. Playing god to bring back a soul that, as she knows very well, cannot be brought back. Something that would end with a rebound, the toll of paying with a physical part of one's body being taken in exchange for that knowledge and power.

If she opens the gate and performs Human Transmutation, Moon will protect Gladion. Her eyes narrow, lips quivering as her will falters.

" _I will follow you to the throne, then!"_ Sun had said once, during their Ishvalan War days. _"I would love to see what your innocent ideas of protection and sacrifice can do for Amestris."_

"Colonel."

His clear, stern voice reaches her, but she finds his eyes to be fading away. The spark of bravery is quivering and flickering like a flame at the mercy of a storm. There is _so_ much blood, it's all she can see, _red_.

"You swore not to perform Human Transmutation. And... you won't need to," he mutters, causing her heart to stop altogether. It's as if he is throwing his life away, as if he doesn't matter anymore and she wants to _scream_. "It will be okay. _I_ will be okay."

His eyes drift upwards for a short second. A quick signal she understands immediately, but still doesn't fix the pulsating panic she feels spreading through her body.

Because he is still losing so much blood and the doctor decides to taunt him further. "Time's running out, Colonel… I would make up my mind soon, or else he will die."

The next happenings come in a blur of noises and screams, as a beast she knows to be their ally strikes from a pipe above the Lieutenant and catches the doctor, managing to confuse Moon's oppressors and giving her the opportunity to flee, grabbing one of the henchmen's swords and stabbing them with it.

"Lieutenant!"

_Please, be alright._

She hears her comrades move as the doctor screams in agony, a slimy monstrous tongue asphyxiating him somewhere to Moon's right. But she cannot focus on anything else than dodging her friends' attacks and reaching his quivering body.

_Please, be okay!_

" _Lieutenant_!"

As soon as she gets to his side, the Colonel cradles his body to her chest and calls out for him. "Lieutenant, open your eyes, Lieutenant!"

All she receives in response is a grunt of pain from him, and she feels her patience slipping, hands shaking as her eyes look for an answer, her fear so physically heavy it links her to the ground and doesn't allow her to move, holding him closer as if it will close his wounds.

"You cannot die, Lieutenant, I… there has to be a way!" Moon stutters, fingertips digging into the scalp of his neck. "C'mon, don't die on me, you cannot leave me alone!"

His lips part and he tries to speak, but nothing but a sigh comes out. Blood soaks her hands, and she is overcome with this imperious need to wail and cry, desperate and needing an answer, for all her mind can come up with is absolute panic, all composure molten to pure jello.

"Colonel, let me help!"

In her mental breakdown, she had failed to notice Zarala rushing to them, somersaulting and kicking her way to their side. The little girl from Xing, almost a prodigy of medicinal alkahestry that Moon had not realized she _herself_ could use.

She only notices this when Zarala finishes drawing the circle under the Lieutenant and seals it with her hands, knives quivering around it as the electricity begins to seal his wounds and bring him back to her.

When the energy fades, his eyes flutter open and when they meet hers, the Colonel still cannot calm down, eyes widening even further and scrambling to hold him again.

Her arms curl around his middle and back, hugging his frame close and tucking him into her arms, making sure she can give him as much warmth as possible as he pants against his chest, still not moving but seemingly _alive_ and he will live and she is _so happy_.

The relief is overwhelming. She is certain she would end up crying whether he died or lived, for the emotion is too much.

"Thank you so _much_ , Zarala," she chokes out, a hand caressing his head as his eyes fall closed again, possibly to channel out the pain. "I… I was too scared to even realize I could have done the same too, I'm so…"

The girl nods. She is much smaller than Moon, but she has much more level-headedness than her. It's almost ashaming how her panic almost killed her dear Lieutenant. "It's fine, it can happen to the best of us," she points at him. "I closed the wounds, but you need to take him to a doctor as soon as it's over."

The Colonel nods and looks at her subordinate, smiling in glee at the thought of him making it out alive. It vanishes as soon as he begins to open his eyes again, gazing at her with weak strength. "Colonel…"

Her hands rub his back soothingly, frowning at the exhaustion evident in his voice. "Save your energy, Lieutenant, we still have so much to do…" A humorless chuckle bubbles out of her throat. "We're stumbling our way through the mission it seems."

As he takes in her words, a very rare genuine smile overtakes the pain in his frown. "I'm so happy you understood the signal I gave you, Ma'am."

A few blinks. The smile is reciprocated with twice the gentleness, as much fondness as she can muster. "It's because we've been together for so long. Besides," an amused sigh, "you gave me this glare of ' _if you go through with it, I will shoot you'_ , and I'm not that stupid."

His attentiveness shifts into a relieved, content smile. It's the only moment during this nonsensical battle wherein she believes everything will be okay.

And that they can take Amestris back and go home, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly took most of the dialogue from the original series because it's THAT good gents


	14. To Hell, If You So Desire | II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her fingers don't get to flicker, for a trigger clicks against a familiar hand. Moon's actions halt, narrowed but widened eyes twitching as she glances at her Lieutenant.
> 
> "That's enough, Colonel."

Envy is one hell of a troublesome monster.

Gladion would have never imagined that there would be a creature any worse than Wrath, but these people keep proving him wrong. Even when supposedly cornered in those tunnels, Envy had managed to escape him and the Colonel, who is now nowhere to be found.

The tunnels are not very wide, made of old bricks and permeating humidity. All light comes from oil lamps scattered around the walls without a pattern. It's a very precarious place to have a battle in, he's aware.

This particular Homunculi has dug itself into a very good position. Like many of its siblings, it has a particular ability that differentiates it from humans. It has a very heavy body as it contains a myriad of human souls that weigh him down, which would wail and scream for death when Envy is in its true monstrous form.

Because Envy is a very skilled shapeshifter, hidden in the shape of a man of advanced age all along. Faba, one of the subordinates of the Führer Wrath. A manipulative cunning bastard.

Walking along the tunnels, the Lieutenant hears steps coming from the next corridor. Rushing with low steps, he kneels to the ground, gun in his hand.

The steps come closer, and as he raises his gun, gloved hands with pinched fingers come to sight. His Colonel stands before him, expression shadowed by the lights of the corridor. A frown is present in her usually serene and cocky persona.

Because Envy is not only a Homunculus. It's also the one who murdered Sun that gloomy and rainy night. Somebody she has been chasing down for months.

"Lieutenant, I told you to stay back," she chastises, lowering her hand as he stands up, gun down.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I felt it would be irresponsible of me to leave you alone." Moon nods and keeps her hands in the pockets of her black long jacket. Long gone is the ease with which they would maneuver through missions, replaced with an invisible scowl.

The shadow of that little frown in her eyes feels so wrong to see, just a trace of difference but still so uncanny. Gladion gulps as she turns around. "Let's get moving. This place is like a maze, and I'm not going to let that little parasite escape now. Stay behind me, Lieutenant."

The orders are clear and precise, and he nods in compliance, gun still in his hand. His Colonel walks a step before him, their steps being the only noise in the tunnels.

The Colonel hears the click of a gun behind her, and she only needs a short glimpse to see Gladion pointing it at her, the small of a smirk surfacing in his features.

With a sigh, Moon raises her hands. "What the hell are you doing, Colonel? This is not the time for games."

"I'm sorry, Envy," he speaks softly, but very slowly and tensely. "But the Ma'am always calls me by my first name when we are on our own."

At this piece of information, 'Moon' leaps away from the line of the gun and the transformation drops, giving sight to the original frame of Faba's appearance in streaks of red electricity. "So you two _do_ have a thing going on!?"

The gun is still raised, expression neutralized. "Nah, I lied." A shot. Envy screams as it pierces his shoulder. "But the Colonel would never not check if _I_ am the enemy. She's not that trusting."

But Gladion knows that the battle will not be easy, for this is a Homunculi and he is but a human being with a pair of guns. His bullets had done close to nothing when Gluttony had seized him, what will be the difference with Envy?

This becomes clear when he runs out of bullets in one of his guns and Envy takes the opportunity to transform one of its limbs into its original shape, a big tail wrapping around the Lieutenant and slamming him against the ground of a closeby corridor.

As much as he fidgets, he cannot break himself free, gun not at reach anymore. The quick prison had created a gash on his shoulder, bleeding slowly and coating Envy's tail. The enemy cackles in the distance.

"Look at that, the Colonel's little boy helpless against me!" it taunts, laughing to itself. "I'm going to choke screams out of you, I'm sure little Miss Moon will be _outraged_ at the sight of your lifeless corpse!"

Knowing her, she would be more than outraged, especially considering her current mental state. Envy should know better than to play with her like this, but here it is, making claim after claim as Gladion tries to free himself.

"The fury will be so delightful, I'm sure the future Führer will be so—"

A hurricane of fire and ire burns the enemy to a crisp, shrieking in deep pain as the flames tickle the skin wrapped around him and burn it away, freeing Gladion immediately.

Just as the lights and screams are over, he hears the rhythmic snap of fingers, and fire comes again as the true Colonel steps out of a narrow hallway, eyes wide and pulsating at the words she had just heard from the Homunculus.

Never in his life had Gladion seen such hateful, spiteful and horrible expression in his Colonel, immediately buried again by another array of flames that brings Envy to its knees.

Her eyebrows quiver as she speaks. "What the hell do you think you're doing to my Lieutenant, Envy?"

A chill falls down Gladion's spine at the tone, and the aforementioned foe stares up at the Colonel as she stands before it, looking down in a deep sneer of anger. The Homunculus' voice trembles as it tries to muster some words, but Moon snaps her fingers again and kicks it to a nearby wall, setting it ablaze.

The Lieutenant watches the display as Envy tries to recover from the attack, his hand clutching his shoulder. Moon turns for a second, inspecting his wound and her hands balling into fists.

"Stand back, Lieutenant," she says with a hoarse voice. "Don't do anything reckless. I already told you this is my issue to take care of."

And as she turns back, Gladion is speechless, for the eyes that had just looked at him are not those of his dear Colonel, long-time boss, even longer time partner.

They are the eyes of a vengeful villain. Small, trembling, her hands shaking and her body moving to continue attacking Envy. This is not the Moon he knows, the Moon he follows.

It's somebody else. And he is _terrified_ of her.

Her attacks become faster, stronger, grunts getting louder until she is screaming at him to ' _get up and look at her in the eye_ ', but Envy cannot even stand at this point. The pace of her flames rise and rise until they just stop, and the villain falls to its knees.

Envy's body begins to crumble like sand, and all that is left behind is the tiny green body of a slug. A parasite.

It curses. It tries to crawl away. A boot stomps on it and forces it to remain idle, rubbing the sole on its back.

"So _that's_ what you are, huh? You are so ugly." It squirms under her foot, trying to run away. "Just like what you are named after. A very ugly feeling, indeed."

A tiny squeak comes from Envy. "Stop it… I-I don't want to die!"

"You should have thought about it when you killed my _best friend_!" A happy man, an innocent man, somebody who did not deserve to die. Her hand stretches as she readies another set of flames. "And this is goodbye, you damn parasite."

"Stop…!"

"Begone, Envy!"

Her fingers don't get to flicker, for a trigger clicks against a familiar hand. Moon's actions halt, narrowed but widened eyes twitching as she glances at her Lieutenant.

"That's enough, Colonel." He says firmly, no longer clutching his shoulder but rather curling his free hand into a fist. "I will take care of the rest here."

Moon's eyes become even smaller. "Stop playing around, Lieutenant. I will finish him off with another shot. Back off."

"That's an order I cannot obey, Ma'am," he replies, the gun still in his hand. He will not lower it anymore. "Let go of Envy, and put your hand down."

This is the only time Gladion will do this. Because if he doesn't, his Colonel will go down a path he cannot allow her to.

But in her state, Moon does not accept the order, her positioned fingers turning into a fist of anger. "I just told you to lower the gun! Put it down!" Her voice shakes in anger and Gladion, just for a second, believes she will destroy him in her fit of anger.

A wave of lifting ground planks kick Envy from under her shoe and it lands on the pale, thin hand of a frowning Lillie, Scar by her side as she catches the creature and closes her fist.

Moon very carefully turns to her and outstretches her hand. "Fullmetal." She calls her by the semi-affectionate nickname she had bestowed on her long time ago. It's anything but affectionate now. "Give it back to me."

The creature squirms its head out of Lillie's hold, and she holds her breath as Moon stares at her with that dazed, livid and too still glare. Her eyebrows remain pinched, and so do Lillie's as she waits with bated breath for the Colonel to calm down.

"I will ask once again." Eerie, she inhales. " _Give it back to me_."

A bead of sweat rolls down Lillie's jaw. All her life she had been running away from her problems: running away from home when she committed _that_ sin, running away when she discovered her armor brother was _not_ her brother, running away when she had needed to face the music.

She wills her feet to not move. "I refuse."

The silence that meets her final words is heavy on her shoulders and even heavier in Moon's stale eyes. Her hand is cackling with unused alchemy as if she would explode in anger and give in to her hatred.

"You don't understand," Moon insists, voice gruff and quivery. "I have to give it the worst death imaginable. And it has to be me."

"I said _no_ , Colonel."

The second denial seems to crack something in her armor, for Moon is readying her hand and taking in deep puffs of breath as she screams. "Give it back to me! If you don't, I will burn the rest of your body down to a crisp!"

Lillie takes a courageous step forward and Gladion's breath hitches, because he fears his Colonel taking it too far. "Then do so if you dare! But take a look at that face you are showing me right now!"

In her desperation, Moon can't comprehend what she means. Her eyebrows have so many wrinkles it's as if grief has aged her a century. Her eyes have the unstoppable flames of ire in them, her whole body shaking in need.

"That face… that's not the face of the future leader of Amestris, Colonel!"

Those words bring a treacherous memory to her mind.

" _I always thought mankind was supposed to have each other's backs during wars… but look at us now. Just a tool for those at the top of the nation. Not protecting each other when we need to."_

" _I will follow you to the throne, then! I would love to see what your innocent ideas of protection and sacrifice can do for Amestris."_

The memory does not faze her; if anything, it hardens her resolve to take Envy from her hands and give it a proper execution.

Scar crosses his arms. "I don't think any of us can stop you from going through with this," Lillie turns to him with a pout of complaint. "I cannot speak about revenge without being a hypocrite, but… I can't help but wonder…"

A little pause. Her glare narrows to a dagger.

"What a woman consumed by her own hatred, threatening her own comrades, would create for Amestris."

A quiet, rough and choked gasp follows his sentence as her eyes finally widen, his words dawning on her slowly.

The voice of her Lieutenant comes from behind her.

"Ma'am, I will not allow you to go through with this," he explains as Moon begins to withdraw her hand, pushing it to her other to try and hold her rage in. "but I will not let it get out of here alive. I'll dispose of him."

Gladion hears her stiffen in a noise of frustration as she shakes, her hand holding the other even tighter. "I… I found it! I had cornered Envy! I finally tracked it down!"

" _I know_!" he insists, releasing a brisk shaky sigh as the gun in his hand begins to shake.

Moon doesn't understand any of this. She had finally found the culprit behind her best friend's death. Finally about to kill it, just about to quench her need for closure on this chapter of her life.

And it's her friends and _Lieutenant_ holding her back.

"But… what you are about to do is not for Amestris' sake, Ma'am." His voice turns solemn, his will to go through with their promise beginning to crumble. "It's to satiate your vengeance and your hatred. It's… consuming you."

His voice has turned breathy and unsure, she can tell. A foreign stirring feeling coils in her belly and ties her throat to a knot, so much happening in her head she cannot comprehend anymore.

"And I… cannot let you go down that path, Colonel." His head falls downcast, lips pursing and teeth clenched. "Please… don't go any further."

Go any further? How can she not? Sun's smile and his words could keep any storm at bay. He loved his family unconditionally, rambling about them and his dreams for hours. He would show her sketches of the town he wanted to build on his grandpa's island, drink with her and support her in her goals.

And Envy had robbed the world, _her_ and his _family_ of such a great gift to the world.

Moon recalls her promise with Gladion.

She takes in a deep, deep breath.

"Shoot me if you want, Lieutenant." It's a grunt without menace, empty with subdued rage that is bubbling at the surface. His face shrinks in horror, not believing his ears. "But… what will you do after that?"

The answer has always been obvious, and in his state of desperation to reel her back to the shore, Gladion has no problems with sharing.

"I don't intend to live a careless life. I have too many burdens in this body of mine to bear this cross anymore." He manages to reinforce his grip on the gun he holds, pushing words past his throat. "When the battle is over, I will remove my body from existence, along with the wicked marks of alchemy on my back."

At this, Moon finally hesitates. Her body begins to shrink, to shake, uncontrollable anger filling her body again as her hand shakes and trembles with unbearable guilt and unresolved rage.

A pained scream. All the power she had been holding back leaves her hand with a snap of her fingers and fire engulfs the corridor by their side, lightning it up momentarily in orange lights and heat.

Gladion regards the release of power briefly and still holds the gun in place.

"I cannot have that." The change in her voice brings his heart to throb. "I can't afford to lose you, Lieutenant. That's unacceptable."

Silence fills the corridor they are in. Moon looks around her as she weakly summons words to rescue her. Lillie and Scar look at her in guard, the girl still clutching Envy in her (unbeknownst to her) shaky hold.

"What sort of joke is this, huh?" Moon wonders. "A little girl threatening me, a foreigner giving me advice…"

The Colonel slowly turns to her subordinate, whose eyes widen as he takes in her appearance. Eyes round and big, finally devoid of anger and just empty, filled with softness as her eyes painfully drink from his concerned gaze.

"And I hurt you," she laments. "Again."

Because as far as she knows, the Colonel had not only procured physical burns on his back, but she had brought back past traumas for the sake of power. She had reminded him of the alchemy that brought him family despair, loneliness, and all the hardships he has had to bear since he was a child.

" _I'm glad it doesn't hurt anymore."_ she had said once. _"I'm so glad."_

The girl slowly takes a step in his direction, "Put it down, Lieutenant," she says softly, not in anger, not enraged, but forlorn and ashamed. She pushes the weapon down and Gladion complies.

When the menace is gone and the dust settles, her eyes remain on the gun that had almost killed her, but had also just saved her.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant." Moon murmurs, voice lost in emotion. "I'm... so sorry."

And with that, her body finally gives in and she falls to her knees, caught up in the aftermath of her ire. Relieved, Gladion succumbs just a few seconds after, his gun falling with him in absolute relief, his heart slowing down after almost losing _her_.

Staring at her through lidded and worried eyes, he believes she will be okay.

Because he will never let her go down that path.

Not in a million years.


	15. A Bed Full Of Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There might be a middle ground where professionalism and gracious affection meet; Gladion and Moon have long blurred those lines enough for conventionalisms to be mere excuses at this point.

When Moon becomes the Führer, she does it with unprecedented grace. The Lieutenant had expected her to attend the ceremony with her usual arrogance, a smirk and those smug eyes of hers, crinkled in mischief.

But she doesn't.

After the battle with Mother had been over, it had been Wicke to rise to the throne, and not Moon. Arguing that the girl was too young and taking over this early after the war, the decision seemed obvious.

And, surprisingly, the Colonel had taken the news with ease. Perhaps she understood that she could still do lots of things from her new position as General. One step under Wicke, the new Führer of Amestris. Aiding her from the shadows.

When the Lieutenant asked her about her plans, the girl turned her chair around. Unsurprisingly, there was a pharmacy book in her hands, but unlike past times, all paperwork had been done long ago.

The leather of her office still smelled the same, and she still looked too small for that chair. He enjoyed the sight nonetheless.

"I'm fine here. I'm doing lots of things lately, and I know it's only a matter of time that I get to where I wanna be." Leaning back against the big seat, she pouted a little. "I just wish Wicke would stop telling me that winning against her in chess is illegal now."

Behind that joke, the blond had known she was getting a bit restless. Moon had been in her charge for a long while before her promotion to General without a complaint, but being right under the honey's reach, just a jump and a graze away, had been very draining for her.

However, the day she came back to the office after a trip to Ishval with Lieutenant Ilima, Gladion is leaning against her desk with a golden letter in his hand. The General walks over to him curiously, as she had only planned to drop by the office to leave all her paperwork in place.

"Major Kukui left this here a few hours ago. And I think I saw trucks taking boxes out of the Presidential Residence this morning." Realization dawns on her, for she had been out of Central for a few days now and had not heard the news.

Slow hands rise to grab the envelope, nerve-shaking hands fishing the letter out of the paper folds.

The Lieutenant waits with bated breath, unmoving. Many emotions flash past her eyes: a twinkle of enthusiasm, happiness, a gasp of surprise, and then, a wide smile that screamed _finally_

It's like the doors to heaven have finally opened for her.

"Here I was, thinking Wicke would hog the position forever," she chuckles breathily, and he crosses his arms, agreeing. She looks from the letter to him, the orange sunset washing over his back. "I can't believe it's finally happening."

"It's been a long time coming indeed, Ma'am." The General responds with a hum of approval. Her eyes are rereading the letter and he remains silent, watching her as he drums his fingers against his forearm.

Hesitation in his eyes, a spark of doubt. Teeth clenched, a gulp.

"So… what are your plans now, Ma'am?"

Blinking charcoal meets brimming green, gentle and bubbling with enthusiasm. Tilting her head, she has a lot of things in her mind: the day of the ceremony, needing to get a proper ceremony dress, preparing a speech, talking to Wicke…

But there is one thing she knows for sure.

"Well, I'll be accepting the position, of course," Moon says with a wide grin, walking around her desk to leave the envelope on it. Gladion turns with her, watching as she stands before the window of her office.

Sparkles of golden and orange wash her in a dreamy halo. She looks happier than she shows, and then speaks with a smirk.

"But I'm afraid that I might still need somebody to watch my back. Someone I trust." Her eyes shift to his and find him to be holding his breath under his professional seriousness. "Will you follow me, Lieutenant?"

A sigh is released. A smile, soft and gentle, him taking a step towards her instead of staying behind her.

"You don't have to ask, Ma'am."

* * *

The ceremony is held on the 24th of May. There are lots of people cheering for the future president, with her dressed in a cream dress under the jacket of her uniform.

Finally accepting the burden she has been eagerly awaiting for more than a decade. Placing it on her shoulders. Looking at the crowd of Amestris with a certainty that drives the mobs to cry in her favor.

When she steps down from the podium, her unit is waiting for her with open arms, to which she runs with a laugh, because she had finally, _finally_ made it to the top.

Ishval is at peace, wounds have been healed and everyone is happy. Her team is back together and will still work for her in the office, just as her Lieutenant will watch her back like he just has during her speech.

Two days later, Moon moves to her Presidential Residence.

One month later, Lieutenant Gladion moves in with her.

This surprises everyone greatly, but as she explains, it's only for her security. Unlike Führer Mohn, Moon does not have a horde of Homunculi guarding her home, and Gladion spends a lot of time in the mansion anyway, both working together through paperwork and future missions.

After all, he is still her assistant. And it's only natural that he moves in for the sake of convenience. Somewhere he can protect her in case anyone tries anything hooky, as Gladion had put it.

It's not like he doesn't trust her, but he doesn't trust himself to be at peace leaving her in such a big mansion on her own.

So he moves in.

They agree to keep their bedrooms in separate wings of the mansion, both connected by a bridge corridor that overlooks the massive garden. There is a big kitchen with wide windows that give sight to the greenhouse, a wide living room full of history and pharmacy books, and more bedrooms for guests.

It's a very big house. The Führer admits one day that she usually gets lost in it, not used to the grand space at her disposition.

Another day, she confesses the place might be a bit _too_ big.

And then, she says that she feels lonely.

That's when he offers to move in. Not necessarily because of convenience as they had said, as such commodity only comes to mind when they are well over agreeing to live together.

Granted, Anti-Fraternization Laws prohibit marrying a workmate, but not necessarily _living_ with them.

At first, everything is going fine. In her free hours, Moon buys lots of cooking books so she can provide to the many guests that will come to the residence. (Totally not because she wants to impress her unfazed Lieutenant). She spends a lot of time tending to her expanded collection of plants as well, building it with her own hands, and sometimes with the aid of her assistant.

They live in harmony. In separate rooms, close, but not _too_ close.

One night, there's a knock on his door.

He doesn't need to ask who it is, so he doesn't. Gladion is reading a book on his bed, only looking up from it to see the door creak open, a shy Moon peering from the gap.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," she speaks in a little voice. "I'm surprised to see you awake this late in the evening."

Guessing she must just want to ask something quick, he returns his attention to the book in his hands. She stays at the threshold, door now wide open. "I wanted to finish a chapter of this book before going to sleep. Is there anything you need, Ma'am?"

The girl hesitates. Clad in her nightdress, she looks a bit less menacing than usual, and the current state of mind she is in doesn't allow for her to tease his love for literature, or chastise him for being awake so late in the night when she is awake as well.

But she's awake for a different reason. Reasons she is hesitant to tell him about.

Moon takes careful steps towards his bed, which is covered in fluffy blankets of intricate patterns. Moonlight streams through the tall paneled windows to their right, and only a lamp remains on in the room.

She is at the foot of the bed, fumbling with her hands behind her back. Gladion waits, occasionally moving his eye between her and the book in his hands. Her fingers fidget, biting her lip and looking at the blanket.

Moon suddenly lifts the thick cover, and sneaks under it from one side, causing the Lieutenant to tense as the bulge under the blankets travels upward until she is between his legs, and then a head pops up from underneath, nestled on his chest and curled between his limbs.

Here she is, the most powerful person in Amestris. 29 years old. Curled in his arms like a cat. His Führer. The Flame Alchemist. The Angel of Ishval.

It's good to know some things never change.

As she presses her body against his, he still reads his book with impassive adequacy. Knowing that giving her a proper reaction would make this more serious than it needs to be.

But he can't help but wonder what prompted _this_ when they live under utmost professionalism and buried affection.

"Ma'am, what exactly are you doing?"

As shameless as she is, the Führer curls herself further and presses her hands on his black tee. One that fits him so well, as she has told him several times, and smells like lavender, freshly taken out of the washing machine. The scent of mint and chamomile wafts around her.

"You used that shampoo Ilima gave you, I see." A curt nod from him. "It smells nice."

It could be that it reminds her of her greenhouse, her favorite place in the mansion. She has other favorite places, though. The place she is on now is a likely candidate to make it to the list.

His head moves a little, possibly to shift into a better position. "You have been working in the garden, haven't you?"

Shy eyes dare look up at him. "How did you know?"

"You smell like flowers and there's a little leaf in your hair." A hand lets go of the volume to pick the leaf and flick it out of her hair. "You know that scent does things to me."

Sardonic chuckles smothered against his chest. "It's a lovely smell."

Gladion agrees with a very short nod and a hum. It's a very particular and pleasing perfume, so powerful he always _knows_ when she is nearby or in a closed room. It's something she carries along at times and it pulls him to her like a magnet.

"What were you doing in the garden, Ma'am? You know it's too late to be outside, isn't it cold?"

"Don't worry, I was properly covered."

"A shawl is not proper, I'm afraid." Gladion feels her puff her cheeks and look down again. "Did you get carried away again, Ma'am? You are so irresponsible sometimes."

Despite their current position, he tries to downplay it as just her being cold, but the way her fingers curl his shirt between them in a fist and she doesn't speak reveals another reality. The long pause she breathes in, the static of her voice and how she doesn't respond to the jab falls on him like a bucket of ice-cold water.

His voice becomes a bit warmer. Lower. So nobody would hear them, even in the solace of this room, of this mansion.

"Did anything happen?"

A vigorous shake of her head. Erratic, nervous. "Not really, I just… I couldn't sleep."

His attention definitely shifts from the book to her, the volume slowly being left on the blanket. "A nightmare?"

"Just restless. I'm not used to how big this place is yet." And it's been two months. But she hasn't been sleeping in the mansion every day either, she has been everywhere these days. "And it's a bit cold tonight."

Gladion gulps. He curses himself for his lack of professionalism in the wake of their domestic life. He isn't only her friend, but also her assistant. A workmate in her house, nothing more than that. While they have had physical contact in the past and hugs have never been a problem, this feels… different.

It feels intimate.

And he really enjoys her proximity. Moon is always warm and much gentler when they are alone, and that change of gear sparks uncertainty within him. They are crossing dangerous rocky grounds, being this close to one another. Pressed one against the other. It feels right. Military rules say it's wrong. She's the Führer, a sacred presence in Amestris. He's just her Lieutenant.

His first instinct is to embrace her and protect her from whatever she is feeling, and his second thought is to gently push her off and talk her out of whatever she is thinking about. Gladion has never felt this torn since he was about to shoot her dead during the fight with Envy.

Is he supposed to listen to his heart or his brain and composure?

Is he supposed to act like a friend or a workmate?

It has always been about him being her comrade. Her Lieutenant. Nothing more, nothing less. A very small circle to move in, barely able to maneuver when it comes to being by her side.

And Moon is breaking that circle, just by being this hungry for his proximity. It's new, it's exciting, it soothes his heart and enchants him.

It will only be one night.

An arm curls around her waist gently, protectively, tucking her closer, sighing. "The blankets in your room are even thicker than mine, Ma'am."

A nod from her, bumping softly with his chin. "The bed is too big… and I thought that, well, you are here now, and I… I didn't want to be alone tonight, Lieutenant."

God, he wishes she hadn't called him that because it feels so _wrong_ in this situation. She is hesitant, tense in his arms as she nuzzles his neck and curls her palms against his torso, fortunate fingers on top of his fluttering heart.

Gladion picks the book up with one hand and puts it on his nightstand. "It's fine. I'm… glad you came, considering you need company." Questioning eyes peer from beneath. His other hand finds a home on the small of her back. "I'm your Lieutenant, after all. And… I'm here to be by your side whenever you need help, Ma'am."

A choked chuckle steals the reaction from him because it sounds overly professional for what he is trying to convey. She bites the bullet, regardless, swallows it and smiles into his shirt, catching the misty smell of the detergent.

"You are such a loyal subordinate." No rank names, just a sigh of content. "I hope… I'm not disturbing you, Lieutenant."

There it is. There will be a day she calls him by his name and he won't feel guilty about it, because he sometimes believes this formalism between them is his doing. He is the stoic and expressionless officer, and she's the cocky and flirty President.

It feels so wrong for Moon to be professional in this place, in his bed, in his arms. It's the only time he wishes she _wouldn't_ be professional.

But this is not the time to address it. That she can call him by name, that she can be casual and pull herself even closer. Because she is tight, tense, and probably scared by whatever nightmare is trying to find her.

Gladion knows because he has had nights like these, too. And the only thing he had wished was to have the backbone to break the walls they build in the office to protect their sacred jobs, to protect their pride and remain at a safe distance.

But she's safe now, in his arms. And that will never bother him.

"You are not a bother at all, Ma'am." The name comes out by nature. He reaches to his side to turn off the lamp, washing the bedroom in darkness sans the blue moonlight in the sky. "Never a bother."

They fall on their sides as he pushes the blanket over them, arms still wrapped around her, shielding her from the world. Moon is impossibly close, buried under the duvet and protected by his body, legs tangled and hair filtered through his digits as he combs her hair absent-mindedly.

Her nose rubs against his chest. "Thank you… Gladion." His ministrations stop, his stomach flipping at the affection in the way she says his name. "Thank you so much."

Breathing even and slowly relaxing in his arms, he melts as she falls asleep. The perfume of late spring and medicine fills his nose as he buries it in her hair, surrounding her completely.

When he speaks again, she is long asleep and he is halfway into the land of dreams.

"You're welcome, my Führer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pamper thee with soft cuddles in bed but don't worry this is utterly platonic and professional they definitely aren't desperately in love with each other 
> 
> if you think this is soft get ready homies you've seen only half of it >:)


	16. The Sword and Its Shield

It begins with a startling piece of news.

Moon barges into her mansion with books and papers falling from their stacks, her barely able to see Gladion rushing to her aid. He had been waiting for her to come home for a few hours after she had stated that she had a pair of meetings to attend before she could go home for the day.

Apparently, this had been the result: a frazzled Moon rushing all around the house as he takes the burden from her arms. "Ma'am, what's the rush? Is everything okay?"

The girl comes back a minute later. Much to his surprise, she has a heavy suitcase in her arms and he has no clue how she is carrying it around without help.

Moon all but slams the thing on the tiled floor with a vigor that brings 'anger' to mind. "I'm leaving. To Drachma. Tomorrow."

The Lieutenant blinks in stupor. Clad in his working shirt, he feels like he is suddenly in the office again, her tone all but calmed. The Führer seems very agitated. "Wait, why? Where did this come from?"

"Olivia came to the meeting and asked for my help handling some insurrections at the border. I have a feeling this has to do with all Kimblee did when he stayed there before the Mother situation. And it's rare for her to ask for _my_ help, so I'll take all I can from her."

She speaks very hurriedly, only taking a pause to breathe and then bolt to the big shelves to their left, climbing up a ladder to grab a few specific books on alchemy and pharmacy. It's a true miracle she knows where everything is, having the colossal amount of volumes she has.

Gladion remembers Kimblee clearly. Long dark hair, a terrifying smirk, a crazed powerful destruction alchemist. Like Scar, but leaning towards the psychopath side. A soldier just like him, whose alchemy had done the worst of damages to the Ishvalans.

Rightfully dead. But he had also been messing with Drachma in order to attack Amestris from the north, which had been stopped by the fearsome soldiers of Briggs. Place where Moon was headed tomorrow.

A place known for infernal cold weather, blizzards, and the most extreme of living conditions.

"And you're leaving tomorrow? Isn't that a bit sudden?" asks the Lieutenant, leaning against the large dining table as she slides down the ladder.

"Well, I guess rebels don't really like giving their opponents a fair warning," she snickers, putting the books on the table between the two couches of the living room, which were brand new.

While the house had already been fully decked with expensive yet simplistic furniture, Moon had taken it to a new level, hanging plants from the walls and expanding the shelves to almost reach the ceiling. It was all rather cheap money-wise but certainly looked elegant in the eyes.

The Lieutenant hums in agreement and crosses his arms. "Well then, when are we parting?"

Moon is just done leaving her open suitcase on the floor before she blinks in his direction. " _We_?" Judging by his expression, he doesn't follow. "I'm going alone, Lieutenant."

That brings him to stand upright and in alarm, walking to his superior with long strides. "I beg your pardon? Why so?"

"Well, Olivia has requested my presence only, and Wicke has summoned you for a meeting in East City this Friday, am I right?" His only response is a short grunt, his arms crossing even tighter, and she finally guesses she is correct. "Is being away from your ever so charismatic leader that sad for you, Lieutenant?"

Her smug tease doesn't fly past him, but he ignores it very deftly. "I don't fully rely on you being as responsible as you should, Ma'am."

She almost falls to her knees at the nonchalant but brutal response, but Moon recovers with puffed cheeks and a frown. "Don't be so mean, Lieutenant. It's not like there will be much to do around there, other than scraping ice off the ceiling of Briggs."

"You would surely find a way to make that entertaining."

The lack of sharpness in that statement makes it sound much fonder than he probably intended, but he doesn't correct himself either. She looks up from her suitcase and claps dust off her hands. That suitcase is very old.

"I will be fine," she assures, a little smile on her lips and eyes as she stands before him. He is so much taller than her, she realizes, and his shoulders are bit broader than she remembered. "Briggs is a safe place, and I have my gloves with me."

"In that snowy weather?" he smirks to himself, a chuckle. "You know you're useless in that sort of weather, Ma'am."

Her eyes widen, and emotions flash past her eyes so quickly he cannot grasp the meaning of any of them. He just knows she looks surprised— taken aback, almost.

Gladion is slightly concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh!" Moon blinks out of her stupor and skips a step back, dismissing his question with an easy smile. She rubs the back of her neck. "No, not at all. Just thinking of what to bring to the trip, that's all."

Her eyes don't meet his as she turns around, and when she walks, it's a bit slow. Her pace is slightly altered, but he thinks nothing of it.

Moon continues speaking, her back to him. "I will come back in a week or so. If you need anything, you can call Sergeant Mallow or General Sophocles, who will be coming with me to visit Molayne to Briggs." The Führer removes her uniform coat and turns to him, the item folded over her arm, smiling again. "You can stay here, of course. If anyone asks for a meeting with me, you know what to tell them."

He knows. If it's Wicke, 'tell her to leave the chessboard in my office'; if it's Major Kukui, 'tell him to send the documents to my house directly'; and if it's anyone asking for her hand in marriage, 'tell them I don't do dates anymore'.

Which is a joke, because he knows she does.

But it always ticks him off somehow.

Still, Gladion nods and watches her pack up, hurry from one place to another, mind her own business before he decides to tend his own duties and look over some letters, sitting on the little table with two chairs that overlooks the garden.

She at some point zips the suitcase closed and drops on the sofa, letting out a long sigh. That's when he takes his eyes off the documents and speaks again. "At what time will you be leaving tomorrow, Ma'am?"

"I believe… 6 a.m. or so. I will have something quick to eat and call it a day," Moon comments, earning her a hum of approval from him. "Take the day off tomorrow, alright? You could use a free day for a change."

He agrees. Silvally would love some more attention from its owner and Ilima has been insisting on hanging out for a few days now. He still feels very iffy about taking a free day so suddenly, though, and he can't help but wonder why.

"Ma'am." A questioning noise from her as she rummages for cereal, he assumes. "Are you sure there's no other reason for me to stay here?"

Moon has a spoon between her lips when she turns to him, blinking as if thinking her answer through. There is no tension on her shoulders or hidden meaning under those dark eyes of hers. Everything seems fine.

The Führer turns from him, again opening a cabinet to search between the many items in it. Despite the amount of space in the kitchen for many ailments, neither Gladion or Moon have filled even half of the vacant space. He always assumes the need will come with time.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I wish I could bring you with me. You're my most trusted aid, after all." After so many years together, those words have the same meaning and same warm impact in his heart, sans the surprise and awkward words afterward. "But Wicke has been very adamant about having a meeting with you. Maybe she wants to play chess."

Her pursed lips with the spoon make it a bit hard to understand what she means, but he gets it all the same. Whatever Wicke wanted from him doesn't particularly interest him, for he knows that woman has a very kind heart.

It's his Führer he is worried about.

And he also wonders what had made her stiffen so suddenly earlier. It's stuck in his head. It rattles loudly, even long after he is in bed and he stares aimlessly at the ceiling in search of sleep.

The morning after, she leaves just as promised. Used to rising with the sun, Gladion finds no problem with watching her leave from the main door of the mansion, the passage that goes through the garden covered in oranges and violets with the sunrise.

Moon is double-checking everything as she takes to the double doors, where her Lieutenant watches from the threshold, still half-asleep. "You should have slept in, Lieutenant. It's way too early."

"Well, if my boss is going to wake up early, I don't see why I shouldn't do the same." The girl shakes her head endearingly at that comment, and from the corner of her sight, she sees him smiling as well. "When will you get to Briggs?"

"I reckon we will arrive at noon, if Olivia lets us through quickly," Moon responds, sighing, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with both hands. "But I have to go now. Take care of the mansion while I'm gone, don't let Silvally eat any of my plants. You remember how to water those, right?"

Gladion would be ashamed to admit that he has been too attentive to his Führer to need any further instructions. Each of the thousands of plants she has in her house is watered automatically through that watering system she has been sophisticating through the years, and it only needs an amount of water in each compartment.

She is much smarter than he would ever give her credit for. And knows it.

The Lieutenant nods, telling her that he does. "Don't worry, Ma'am. I won't let any of your plants perish in your absence."

The particular wording makes her chuckle, then look at him for a second. They are washed by dawn and freckles of sunlight, more so her than him, the gold on her uniform's shoulders gleaming like gems. Her eyes sparkle with their usual softness and a feeling in her stare he can't quite name.

"Is everything okay, Ma'am?"

She regains her composure after that, then nods with another easy smile. "Mhm. I was just thinking that I will miss you around, Lieutenant." That bold confession takes him aback because of its timing, because it should be obvious they would miss each other with such distance between them.

No words come out of his mouth other than a smiled nod, which she takes with a lopsided smile of fulfillment and waves goodbye to him, turning to leave.

Gladion doesn't peel his eyes from her as she walks through the passage, waving again as she probably feels his eyes glued to her like a fly to a lamplight.

He wonders why it haunts him that she is leaving alone.

And why he can't get that flicker of emotion in her eyes he can't name yet out of his mind.

* * *

"So you and the President haven't made a move on each other?" Sharp eyes flash towards Lieutenant Ilima, who sighs and leaves his glass on the table. "Commander Wicke will have my head on a platter at this rate."

"My relationship with the Ma'am is only my business." Something akin to 'wet blanket' comes from a tipsy Lieutenant, but Gladion pays no mind to it. "Besides, she's out of town right now. She better not mess things up in Briggs."

A sigh comes out of his lips as he drinks from his cold soda. It's not like Gladion does not trust her; after all, she is the Führer of Amestris and he knows she will be fine, but old habits die hard, he assumes.

Everyone knows she is a bit of a firecracker, but a reliable one.

Lieutenant Ilima looks at him, pensive. "Do you really think she will?"

"Not really, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I know she's trustworthy, I know her better than anybody."

"It really doesn't look like it."

The assistant almost spits out his soda as the other deadpans a very low sentence. He is looking at his long-time friend with narrowed concern in his eyes, observing as Gladion picks himself up after that blunt claim.

"What is that supposed to mean, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, don't use ranks on me now. You know I'm not buying that anymore." A sweet smile, charming as he is. "Why are you being so hard on the Ma'am? She is doing great things for Amestris."

Moon had been working very hard to establish relationships with Ishval even before she was out of the hospital after the battle with Mother. She had also established much tougher regulations on the higher Military brass along with new charges and many envoys to neighboring countries to make sure there was peace.

He has been by her side as she signed paper after paper, when she went to these countries herself and when she battled for peace in some places. Gladion knows his Führer is reliable, brave, and a great President.

She had finally achieved her dream.

He stirs his drink with his straw absent-mindedly. "It might be a force of habit. I live with her. I know how hard she is working, even if she's still terribly easy to distract."

"The Ma'am is a very… particular woman," Ilima responds, recalling the many times he had found her passed out on a chair long after becoming General. "And still has a knack for flirting with the newbies at Kukui's crew."

"And she's very laid-back," continues Gladion, then chuckles. "And useless in rainy days."

Lieutenant Ilima is about to laugh at that comment, but for some reason, he doesn't. Eyebrows slightly sunken, he mulls over the choice of words, a constant in Gladion but also… a somehow worn-out phrase.

"Do you think the Ma'am takes offense over all of this?"

Gladion arches an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"We are constantly laughing at her expense because of her ways at work, which you do more than any of us," a frown from his friend, "but I wonder if she actually takes these comments to heart."

Truth be told, Gladion has never stopped to think about what she thought about his comments because her reactions have always been goofy and light-hearted: a frown here, a reaction there, subtle anger and very fake irritation.

Or so he has always assumed.

"Considering how she refuses to take them seriously, I don't think she does," Gladion says, thoughtful. He is thinking about it a bit more than he should, probably. "Why would she?"

The question comes out uneasy, a quiver of his voice in hesitation, which Ilima drinks for with a thick gulp.

"You know, the Ma'am got her sight back thanks to a Philosopher's Stone. She was blind at the time. I can't imagine how it must have felt for an aspiring Führer to lose one of your primary senses just like that."

A punch of guilt hits him square in the chest. A sigh. They had talked about this issue a long time ago, in that hospital room with her full of bandages, her unable to look at him, him just as incapable of meeting her vacant eyes.

In her case, it had been because she opened the Gate of Truth.

In his case, it had been because such an incident had been his fault. To this day, he still thinks it was.

The other Lieutenant sees the pause from his friend and takes it as a cue to continue. "But she rejected the stone. And she insisted I made use of it first," Ilima's palm hits his now healthy legs, smiling at the sensation, "so I could walk again."

Gladion's eyes shift briefly to his legs, then back to his half-empty cold glass, stirring the ice in it. Whilst chasing down a Homunculus in one of the laboratories, him and Moon had been cornered in a room, her ignition gloves all wet and Lieutenant Ilima passed out due to blood loss after being stabbed.

The wound had been so deep he had lost all leg mobility, and he had retired from the Military for a while before he came back to help them in the battle against Mother.

And after that had been done, Moon had insisted he took the stone first. Because she wanted to have him in her team again.

Lieutenant Ilima smiles fondly at the memory of her screaming for him to take it, or else she would burn him to a crisp. A very empty threat, he knew.

"I remember that the Ma'am said something that really made me begin to think about this." Gladion observes his friend, impatient to hear it. "How did she say it…? Ah, it was so long ago."

In the way Ilima looks at him with a smirk the other knows he is just being messed with, so his grip on his glass of soda tightens. "Lieutenant…"

"' _I don't want to be useless for my unit anymore. I have spent enough time being weak, slow and useless to now be blind, too. I… don't want to be useless, Lieutenant.'_ " he narrates, remembering the pain and the sorrow in her voice, an emotion that had only shown in her words when Sun had died.

Gladion's eyes widen at this, because the number of times she seemed to have mentioned the word _useless_ concerns him. Especially because _he_ had used it an outrageous amount of times.

"I sometimes think the Ma'am still blames herself for what happened to Sun. And Sophocles told me she must still feel guilty for what happened to you." Ilima sighs heavily. "She's the captain of our unit, so it's only natural she feels responsible for everything that happened to us."

Moon had screamed for him to _survive_ when he had his neck sliced open. She had refused to open the Gate of Truth, but she had been _so_ close to doing it to save him.

In the same way he blames himself for her temporary sight loss, he can't even begin to imagine how she dealt with the many losses she suffered during and before the civil war for Amestris.

His stomach lurches.

"But…" Gladion gulps as he speaks. "She is far from useless."

"I'm sure she knows. And I'm also very sure she doesn't take that much offense for what we say. She's a damn powerhouse." The other Lieutenant smiles into his glass as he takes a thick gulp of soda. "But I think it's healthy to think about it. And you could be a bit nicer to her."

The Führer's assistant turns to Ilima, whose expression has turned into a smirk of knowing. It looks very wrong in his face, somehow, him being so nice but so playful. "As in?"

"Instead of scolding her for reading about flowers, you could bring her some. If you don't, I will lose my bet with Wicke and I really don't want to lose 100 cent over your snail pace."

A growl from Moon's assistant is all it takes for Ilima to put a button on it, and they stay quiet for a while. Reminiscing in what had been said, in those feelings Gladion allegedly has that Ilima hinted at.

But he doesn't know how he watches over her, how he praises her skill when it comes to plants (always along with a jab for her distracted state towards her duties), how they cook together and how they have slept in the same bed once.

He doesn't know Gladion had not slept so well in a while, with her in his arms.

The sole memory of that night brings a shudder down his back.

Moon had felt so light in his arms. How could her shoulders be so heavy with so much guilt?

It's unimaginable to him. The thought of her punishing herself for all that has happened doesn't sit well within him and stirs in the same way that her unsettled confusion had a few days prior.

" _I have spent enough time being weak, slow and useless to now be blind, too."_

Gladion sighs, shoulders hunched and head a tidbit lower in silent contemplation. Could it be?

"I… hope she is alright." he hears Lieutenant Ilima say, just as pensive as Gladion. "It gets very cold in Briggs this season."

Gladion couldn't agree more.

* * *

Moon is back in Central City 9 days later. Gladion initially blames it on the nasty weather of the northern provinces, thinking that she probably got held up by a blizzard, so he expects her to come back with a cold and a petty excuse for a runny and Rudolph-red nose.

But then, she is hopping back and forth the headquarters when he comes to work that day. Bags full of heaps of presents as she hands them to each person she knows in the building, people piling around her like it's Christmas and she is Santa.

It's a sight to behold, really. Gladion watches from a guarded distance, folders under his arm as she gives packages left and right.

Sophocles slides to his side wearing a bright yellow scarf. It still has the tag on. "The Ma'am sure is lively this morning."

The other doesn't have much to say about that. Moon has always been a pretty lively person within all that snickering smugness of hers, her napping afternoons in her mansion (where he definitely did not have to cover her with a blanket and peel the book off her face) and her procrastination tendencies.

Such behavior is not new to him.

But there is something wrong in the picture he sees.

"I thought the Ma'am would come for you first," adds Sopohcles nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. "There are so many people hogging her for gifts it's almost insulting."

Considering Moon is a true authority in Amestris and half the people he is seeing are vocally terrified of her, it's indeed very jarring to see.

But it's even more jarring that, indeed, he is _not_ by her side. If he had been there, he would have had them all make a queue to even _talk_ to her. Considering how deceivingly intelligent Moon is, he wonders if she's just trying to fool everyone into underestimating her with those grins of hers.

It still irks him, though. So much so he excuses himself from Sophocles' side and strides to Moon, but people are beginning to leave as Moon flutters away from reach, papers and a bag in her arms.

"Ma'am, hold on!" he calls, prompting Moon to stop.

Still hopping from one foot to another, she turns around. The sight of her again brings a sigh of relief past his lips, for some reason, as if finally realizing that she is back and she is within reaching distance.

"Good morning, Lieutenant! And you too, Sergeant." Both salute in response. An unnecessary gesture that she appreciates nonetheless. "Did you need anything? I'm on delivery service."

"Delivery service?"

The Führer nods at Sophocles, then pats the bag in her arms. "General Olivia from Briggs gave me these to hand to several officials, so I'm trying to get rid of all that before I sit down in the office. I'm in a bit of a rush."

Ah, he should have known. She is not that generous to spend so much money on other people. Gladion guesses all those people thought she was giving presents.

And he guesses Sophocles' annoying scarf _was_ a gift.

Gladion takes a cautious step towards her. "Do you need any assistance, Ma'am?"

He catches himself being a bit too eager to help, but she doesn't seem to notice. Deep inside, he knows it's been a while since they spent time together and they could use this silly task as an excuse to catch up, so she could tell him all about Briggs and how she, for sure, made Olivia regret ever inviting her over. Moon is a bit of an evil rascal after all.

She surprisingly shakes her head with a wide smile.

"Not at all, Lieutenant. I will be buried in paperwork later and I have a meeting as well, so I'll enjoy what little time I have to walk around for a bit." Half turned around, she winks a secretive eye at them. "Besides, I heard Major Kukui has a new protegé in his unit. I should go present myself."

Moon waves at them and resumes her tasks, leaving a sweaty Gladion and a stammering Sophocles. "The Ma'am is… so shameless."

No wonder Olivia despises her. She is a relatively young, flirty and very blunt woman sitting atop the food chain, the president of a whole country. If one didn't know of the pain she has gone through to get to where she is, it can be very anger-inducing. Or unfair.

But he knows better than to say anything about it. Mostly because he knows such flirting is but a superficial habit of hers, no matter how real it is. And she plays the role very well.

"As long as she doesn't get herself into trouble again, I'll be able to sleep at night," Gladion responds, knowingly parting the same way his superior had gone through.

Sophocles tilts his head, adjusting the scarf around his neck. "Where are you going, Lieutenant?"

"To the Major's office. Knowing her, she has probably gotten distracted in the library. I'll go tell Kukui to hide his new men or else Amestris' Crocodile will hit on them until they die."

The Sergeant smiles knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows as he trails behind the Lieutenant. "Is someone jealous?"

"Definitely not." Which translates to _definitely not_ , but much more wobbly than the indifference he had just spoken with.

It feels weird to walk by Sophocles like this. He is much smaller than Moon and him are, not to mention a bit less talkative but just as chaotic as her. It's a weird concoction, but he will take it for now, because if he is left alone, he will be left with the same thoughts that had been plaguing him since the Führer took off to her day without him.

Why had she rejected his help?

And why does it only feel weird _now_?

* * *

"Lieutenant."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"It's getting late, you know."

Her voice comes as a lull from somewhere to his right. He is sitting in the living room, a book in his hands and still dressed in his uniform from today, sans the pistols and the long blue jacket. Looking behind him, Moon is clad in a long shirt (probably one of his she grabbed from the clean laundry basket) and long leggings.

Seeing a figure as powerful as hers in such casual and almost too comfortable wear is all sorts of weird but mostly pleasing for him.

Her hair is dripping with water. One of those drops lands on his shoulder as she looks at his book from over his shoulder, her cheek brushing with his. The mint and almonds in her shampoo waft under his nose. He swallows a gulp.

"Reading books this late? You sure are a bookworm, Lieutenant," she says cheekily, voice a bit low in their proximity. He can hear the teasing smirk in her airy voice. Goosebumps awake all along his back.

"Says the pharmacist with a thousand books on the shelves, Ma'am."

A chuckle. She moves away to sit on the back of the couch, only one leg on the surface. Upon closer inspection, he finds a towel around her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm just an alchemist."

Gladion shakes his head as his eyes travel back to the book in his hands. "You say that as if that was very little."

"You should know me better, Lieutenant. I always want to be more than that." With a happy sigh, Moon hops off the sofa, grabbing the ends of the towel around her neck. "I'm gonna take my paperwork to bed. Go to sleep soon, Lieutenant."

They share quick good night's and a few quips here and there before she is officially retreating to her room, crossing the space of the living room to the staircase at the back of the mansion. She looks so small compared to the grand dimensions of the house he can't help but stare.

It comes to him that he is staring for another reason, though, and Ilima's voice comes to his head immediately, masked as Moon's in a fated flashback.

' _I don't want to be useless for my unit anymore.'_

"Ma'am."

The Führer turns sharply at his call, stopping her walk as she waits for her subordinate to talk. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

His green eyes stare into her coal ones from far away. Her cheeks are splashed with very faint pink, and so are the ends of her fingertips. There is a doey appearance to her usually defined features that colors her in a different light.

Should he really tell her what's been on his mind, what Ilima's words had done to him, or just brush it off? Should he apologize? Should he ask her what she thinks about this topic?

He stares at her for a long pause, holding her gaze in odd silence of thought and pondering. Chewing over the issue, thinking of what to say, _how_ to say it.

In hindsight, the latter would have been the best option. Instead, he says the following.

"It's… nothing, Ma'am." Gladion pushes the topic aside, deciding it's not worth it to try and discuss this issue. Decides that this bubbling fear is not worth her attention. Her eyes blink and flicker in suspicion, making him gulp. "Sleep well."

Moon stands there for another second, however, eyeing him with increasingly narrowed irises. He thinks she might go back to him and force him to talk, but she ends up leaving with one last silent nod. As if telling him 'you know where to find me'.

After she leaves, silence is all around him, and unlike before where she was not there, it's now much emptier than before. At least the brooding silence these last days had been majorly because she was gone, but it now feels too heavy on him to be normal.

No. This is because that little nagging issue is starting to do severe damage in his focus. So much so he has lost himself on the page he was reading before she came in.

Words in those pages no longer mean anything, the words in his head too loud for him to read.

Gladion spends at least twenty minutes staring into the thick volume that once was appealing, now is just a reminder that he actually does _need_ to talk and that the book is hers, so she would not appreciate him tearing it to pieces in a fit of frustration with himself.

Once upon a time, the Lieutenant had no one but his mother (and apparently a sister) to lean on. When he ran away from home, he just had the Military to be with, where he remained as the eternal outcast for his exemplary behavior. But then came the war, Moon, the unit and all the adventures that followed.

Ending the misery of his family, only puppets full of power but without a heart. Finding his long lost sister. Meeting his Führer, meeting _her_.

He doesn't need to be alone anymore.

Leaving the volume on the table, Gladion gets up and follows the path she had taken a bit ago. He turns the lights off and goes up the stairs, the firm marble cold against his black slippers.

Winter is approaching Amestris, so it's a bit chilly. Wearing his usual black turtleneck, not even that or the light warmth in the house saves him from the low temperatures. Her room will for sure be warmer than this.

As he reaches the wing her bedroom is in, he notices the door to her room is ajar. The biggest bedroom in the house is currently vacant, as Moon had decided to settle for something a bit smaller to not have too many empty spaces. Neither are used to grand houses or rooms, really.

Golden warm light comes from inside, and he stops in his tracks. He stops to try and guess if she is asleep, but soon enough, he hears a page being turned.

Gladion pushes the door open a little, and leans on the threshold of her room in silence as she looks up from her papers. A lot of them are scattered on her big bed, covering the red duvet she is sitting on.

His eyes are aimed at the floor. Moon finally looks at him, blinking at his sudden presence with short-lived surprise. It dissolves into a smile soon enough, though, smushed against the palm she is leaning on.

"Good evening, Lieutenant."

The heavy silence he presents to her is evidence enough that something is, indeed, wrong. A knowing sigh blows out of her mouth, seeking his stare with her own sparkling eyes in an attempt to pull him into attention.

Moon worries about this. She leaves the document on the bed along with the others. "Do you need anything, Lieutenant?"

Gladion clears his throat. Speaking is suddenly a thousand times harder, for there are so many things he has to say yet too few ways to say them. "I… would like to talk."

She seems to think about his words for a few seconds, staring at him just as pointedly as earlier, trying to solve the mystery before he even presented it. It's not scrutiny in her eyes, just her usual analysis to read what is in his head. Maybe a measure to ready herself for whatever he needs.

Then, another sigh. "I should have known it was _not_ nothing," the Führer jokes and pats the place by her legs on the bed. "Give me a pair of minutes to finish this. I'm all yours after that."

The wording is very odd, but he doesn't make much of it. He's used to that fake flirtatious sentence, used very often when they're on their own. What used to be a joke is now something she says more sparingly, more naturally.

Gladion takes a seat. She moves some stuff out of his way. The many papers around her are either requests for permission for certain reforms or formal letters from the many contacts associated with her.

If he weren't in the state of mind he is, maybe he would help her. He doesn't notice her quick glance in his direction, nor how she is working and reading quicker to get to him as soon as possible.

At some point she grabs all papers and jumps off the bed, stacking all the documents on the big desk to her right and keeping others inside a bright orange folder. Before he can question it, she is bouncing back to the bed, right where she was seated.

"Alright, what happened?" Moon asks, as if what he has to say could be summed up to just one thing. As if it was simple.

Despite her quirky persona, the Führer is rather patient when it comes to talking. She has spent extended hours going back and forth in negotiations, not to mention the many nights she has spent fixing his wounds after a heated battle.

So, she waits. He is not facing her, eyes glued to the rug of her bedroom as if it will provide any further support. The red of the wool swirls in intricate patterns under his eyes and feet.

Suddenly, he springs up and looks at her, surprising her as well, if her wide eyes are to prove that. He is still struggling to speak, however, as stunted as he is. "Are you okay?"

That was _not_ what he had wanted to say. Or, at least, he knows it's a very long-winded way to begin the conversation. But he genuinely knows no other way to begin, so he decides to let the ball roll now.

She is naturally confused by this question. Eyebrows pinched in the middle, head tilted. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"I know," he hurries to say. "I mean if everything is okay lately, Ma'am."

Moon is aware that there is a hidden element within those simple questions. Gladion never asks if she 'is okay' or if 'everything is going fine these days', because he is never this vague. Gladion is a creature of precision and direct questions. His job as a sharpshooter further proves this nature in a very roundabout way.

So this alarms her. "I… yes, it is, Lieutenant. Everything is going alright, Amestris is safe and everyone is safe and sound."

Moon offers these answers in a blind attempt to hit any of his concerns, but judging by the lack of reaction, nothing works. He looks conflicted in the way he avoids her gaze, frustrated in the way his fingers dig into the blankets and how his right hand shakes.

"Are you certain, Ma'am?"

"Completely and absolutely."

The next words take a little to come out. "And… is everything okay? Between _us_?"

If her eyes were wide before, they are _huge_ now. They — much less Gladion — are not used to talking about their relationship, for it's complicated but simple in the sense that they don't need to address their bond to keep it afloat.

The thought of something being wrong with it scares her. Not because they must talk about it, but because she could potentially be the cause of his current turmoil.

And she hates it.

She promised to never hurt him again. "Of course, Lieutenant. You- you haven't done anything wrong. Is this because I went to the mission alone?"

Gladion wants to say that _yes_ , that's why. He had been sulking over it in secret when he was alone, arms crossed as he absent-mindedly waited for her to come back home. When he was told she would take two extra days to arrive, he had been admittedly moody.

But the Lieutenant knows that's far from the truth.

"Well, it did upset me a little that I couldn't accompany you in your mission, Ma'am. I heard you got hurt during a battle with some insurgents from Drachma." Moon opens her mouth to speak but he cuts right through. "But that's not my point."

"Then, what is, Lieutenant?"

"When we spoke, the night before you left to Briggs." Moon nods in understanding, going back to that night. "Did I… offend you or upset you in any way, Ma'am?"

Because directly mentioning the issue Lieutenant Ilima had spoken about might trigger an unwanted reaction from her (and possibly the truth that he maybe did _hurt_ her) he opts for more subtlety.

"Upset me…?" She whispers, frowning, bringing her knees under her chin and her arms around her legs. Moon tries to go back to that night, to where he could have said anything mean or—

A bulb lights up in her head, eyes widening and breath hitching as she recalls what he could be talking about.

Gladion catches this reaction and holds himself for what could either be roaring laughter of disbelief or heartbreaking honesty.

He gets none of that.

Instead, Moon chuckles breathily, legs falling back bent on the mattress as she looks at him gently. The light of the lamp bathes her in a warmer color that invites him to relax. "Ah, I should have known."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Lieutenant Ilima talked to me this morning."

Gladion truly thinks that the best thing he can do now is simply leave the room and chase Ilima down for his crimes, but she is quick to shake her head to keep his fears at bay.

"He told me you two had… a _talk_ some days ago. About what happened when I told him to accept the stone before I did." Gladion waits with paced silence and light breathing, still as a statue. "And he told you about what I said, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did." He isn't sure if that's good or bad, and she doesn't appear to know either. "Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing else worth mentioning, I'd say. But the fact that he told you about it leads me to believe you are putting a lot of blame on yourself. _Again_."

Moon knows him better than she should and he hates it. The fact that she already knows what is going through his mind alarms him but also calms him, because she has a better way with words than he ever will.

Because how can he not feel guilty for inducing insecurity in her? Granted it had all been told as a joke, but the situations he had mocked her in had been _serious_.

How could he have missed the point for so long? Looking at her, she appears to remember what she said very well. It must have been a very meaningful moment for her that he has been continuously dismissing for years now.

She made big and great statements about never wanting to hurt him. Turns out he has been hurting her all this time.

"Is it true, though?" he asks tentatively, testing the waters. Dipping only one toe into the cool surface of her eyes. "Do you really take our— _my_ words to heart?"

"Sometimes."

He falls headfirst into the cold pool.

"So that means I… truly did hurt you, didn't I?" He wants her to hit him, scream at him, cry, say something but _not_ stare at him like she is now. As if he was hurting her even more. "I never knew—"

"Lieutenant."

Her call is always sharp. Always an authority he must respond to.

He doesn't realize he has started to shake until her palm is on one of his hands, warmth seeping into him and making him look at her. Gladion finds her to be still smiling very calmly.

"If I didn't take your words seriously, then I would be nowhere close to where I am now." She gestures around them for emphasis. "All I have now is thanks to you being a pain in the ass. So to answer your question: do I take you seriously? Of course I do. Does it hurt to be called useless? In no way as much as you think."

But it _does_ hurt. And he does not want to hurt her in any way, shape or form. He can't afford to hurt somebody he cares about so ferociously, after all.

"That's… not the issue at all, Ma—"

"We are alone now, Li— _Gladion_ , don't call me by rank name," she pleads in a low voice. It's not an order, but rather a beg. "We're at home. You can call me by name."

It takes him a little to adjust to what she has just said, but it feels _right_ to go out of his hermetic etiquette rules now. He can't stand the nickname he has for her anymore. Not now.

Gladion finds it a bit hard to speak again because he has so much to say it's like he will _explode_ if he does not say it. It's just difficult to find the right words to get his point across. To make her understand.

"I just… Ilima really made me wonder if I'm being fair with you. After all, we have been together for so long it's… very hard to understand what we are as a relationship." He ignores the way she blushes adorably at that, and how she tries to hide it looking aside. "I don't think I have been as supportive as I should have."

"But you _have_."

"Not if I have hurt you. You have done so much for Amestris, you… have saved me _so_ many times, Moon." He says her name slowly, tasting how it sounds. Relishing in its pronunciation and how her eyes soften at the sound. "And you have gotten hurt because of me."

Thought rings through the pause that follows. He shifts his eyes to his hands as he grabs his emotion-shaking hand until gentle fingers touch his cheek softly, making him look up.

"You have gotten hurt many times more because of me, Gladion." Moon has gotten a bit closer, palm cupping his cheek. Only when he follows her eyes does he realize the is brushing her thumb against a scar on his cheekbone. "You have defended me from far too many things."

"You ordered me to watch your back. I am not known for disobeying my superiors, as you know."

It's thanks to the way she produces a lopsided smile that he knows she remembers that day as clearly as he does. How the room was dark despite the sunlight, the day she placed a burden on his shoulders he still carries with pride and fortitude.

The burden being her protection. Just as she tasked herself with _his_ protection. Both of them at risk of losing their lives for one another.

Gladion leans against her palm, her thumb still tracing the light scar. "I should have asked you before you left for Briggs."

The Führer nods with a hum, a side of her smile crooking into a smirk. "You should have." And her words don't end there. "But I'm happy you are talking about it. But… please know, you did not hurt me."

His hand creeps up to cup hers against his cheek, holding it there. Moon's eyes widen at the sight of him reciprocating such gesture. "I'm still sorry. Ilima was… much quicker on the uptake than I was."

Moon wants to say she agrees, but she is sure Ilima sprinkled some sarcastic tactics of his to stir his nosy spoon in Gladion's brain. She will definitely have a talk with him. Her Lieutenant being this gentle is… new, it's strange but it warms her to see him open his heart for her.

It still worries her, though.

"What Ilima said… he had a point. That talk we had made me realize I sometimes behave like an asshole for absolutely no reason—"

"That's not true."

"— and it… made me wonder if I should be less strict with you, Ma'am." A trace of emotion in his calm and soft little seam gets wider and wider until emotion begins to overwhelm him and his head hunches forward in a myriad of feelings. "And that I should be more… _affectionate_."

Her heart clenches painfully in her chest at the embarrassment in his voice. Not because of his feelings but because he is generally _shy_ about being so honest in general.

They certainly go back. Them being as close as they are, anyone would expect things to be much more casual than the way they are, for the fondness to show through much more clearly between them.

She understands the outside view. But the outside doesn't understand how comforting it is to have the firm belief he will never leave her, that before he ever does that he will _kill_ her.

His faith in her is just as moving as hers is for him.

With a sigh, Gladion's body heaves forward, tilts and his head slowly falls on her lap, her hand suspended in mid-air as he breathes deeply, trying to calm his breathing and begging himself to stop blushing.

Long fingers linger in his hair. The tender image beneath her makes her smile, seeing Gladion so close to her and so willing to be vulnerable for her. To express himself. To confide in her.

"We have a very particular relationship. And they don't know how much stuff we have been through, together and alone." Moon sees his arms move to circle her waist, his cheek pressed against her thigh. "You don't need to change, Gladion. I promise."

Something resembling relief echoes in the sigh he lets out, much like something has been lifted from his spirit.

Her digits continue to comb through his hair. His uneven fringe falls over his face and covers the fading blush that stings his cheeks, platinum concealing the ivory and rose of his skin. Moon meditates her following words as his arms tighten around her.

"You have been by my side for as long as I can remember. I wouldn't change that for anything in the world, because your support means the world to me, Gladion." When she whispers his name, it's drawled out and sweet.

But it's still her.

His dear and stupid Colonel, General and now Führer.

"So don't worry about such things. They don't understand how we work, but _I_ do. And I'm happy you are still by my side. Right now, before and in the future."

Moon feels the words are not needed but she says them anyway because even if he doesn't need that reassurance, it's always nice to hear. She knows he will appreciate them, even when nestled in the lap of the President of Amestris.

A little smile surfaces under his fringe, one he can't let her see or else he will be completely exposed, and getting more emotionally naked than this will expose too many feelings. And they cannot afford that.

So he just pulls himself closer to her. Warmth radiates from her, the perfume of her soap lulling him to quietness, to an appreciative nod and more clinging. Pretending his proximity is not telling enough of how he feels deep inside.

A content sigh from her later, she is pulling away from him, even when his arms try to pull her back with a grunt of displeasure.

He finds out a second later that she is turning off the lights and opening the bed, leaving the blankets open. A silent invitation he does not even need a second to accept, for he is crawling into bed with her and nestling his head under her chin.

If his weight bothers her, she doesn't say, because all she does is continue caressing his hair and rubbing up and down his back, his body lying by her side, head right above her heartbeat.

"Sleep, okay? It's been a long day." Her voice is barely a breath. He nods regardless. "I'll always be here."

Another content smile stretches itself through his features in the darkness. The comfortable place his head rests on makes his body feel warm, almost giddy because there's nothing that feels more like home than her, even if he would never admit it.

He is not alone anymore, and he has a home now.

And that's wherever she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap!! Thank you babies who read this cluster of nonsense but I had lots of fun writing it! I was going to make this much more elaborate but I decided to leave it as it is lmao, so that's how this ends!
> 
> I have a big, big, big big big BIG multichapter coming up next month (hopefully no more than the 10th and I say HOPEFULLY) so YEAH!!! I'll see you there and on social media!! Toodles!
> 
> Don't let the bedbugs bite u
> 
> \- Mirai

**Author's Note:**

> I mean the concept of Führer is what Germany had for basically president but FMAB is lowkey a dictatorship so let's say Moon just wants to be the president for [spoilers]
> 
> I'll update this a bit randomly but please let me know what you think in the comments so far! There will be backstory revealed and some emotional shit and fluff and everything sooo
> 
> /penguin walks away
> 
> also this was a bit short but WHATEVER WHENEVER MDUDES


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